Vengeance from the grave
by MK-ONE
Summary: Despair over the loss of his godfather in the Battle of the Dept. of Mysteries, followed by abandonment, isolation and hopelessness drive Harry to try and end his own life. Though death itself cannot halt his just vengeance against the Dark Lord, nor keep him from attaining that which he has ever been denied; someone to love and be loved by.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Chapter one: A tragic ending to a tragic life**

Albus Dumbledore, Britain's much heralded 'Leader of the Light', stood riveted to the ground. His eyes drifting over the horrific blood stain, his nose assaulted by the metallic scent in the air though he only half registered it as his thoughts were awhirl with all manner of what if's and maybe's.

All his carefully laid plans and schemes had all been for naught. He was responsible for this,... this tragedy. He was as wholly responsible as if he had done the deed himself.

Hadn't he though? Hadn't he brought all to ruin by his adherence to his personal mantra of "for the greater good"?

_The greater good-Bah! _

Where in the world is it written that the 'greater good' is purchased through the blood and pain of a hapless orphan?

He'd thought to toughen the boy up, to prepare him for the increasingly arduous ordeals that lie ahead. He'd done that by all accounts only he 'd been so proud of himself and all his well thought out schemes that he'd failed to take into account the most important element of his plan.. the child himself.

Harry was a person, not a tool. He had feelings, hopes and dreams of his own. Childhood wants for acceptance maturing into teenage desires to give and receive love.

By all accounts he had at least become the "Champion of Light" that he was guided into being.

_Guided? Hmm,.. that's a too nice term for manipulated._

Great genius that even he considered himself to be... he was in essence just a fool.

_Why fight when there was nothing left to fight for?_

_What cause was there left to fight for when you no longer had anyone or anything left to fight for? _

He had stood idly by whist Umbridge stripped Harry of all but his breathing privileges. Persecuted and tortured daily, vilified in the 'Prophet' and the student population at every turn. Snape was given free rein to abuse and belittle him from the very day a too thin and underdeveloped Harry Potter set foot within Hogwarts. This school should have been a bastion of hope, let alone a safe haven for him as it was for the other students.

Dumbledore even went so far as to coerce the rest of the staff to take a hard, unsympathetic stance , if not outright ignore any and all concerns "Potter" related, no matter how legitimate those concerns may be.

Merlin above...how he loathed himself. Not just for what he'd done, but for what he failed to do.

Sirius Black was dead. He should have cleared his name from the onset, knowing as he did, that Sirius was innocent of all wrong doing.

He could have left the boy that much.. a _father figure_... someone to care for and be cared for by.

But no... with Sirius out of the way it was far easier to harden the boy through endless trial and strife.

He's hardened him alright. He'd hardened him to the point that his impact with the ground had broken it as well as himself.

Albus Dumbledore stood contemplating the blood drenched lawn beneath the Castle's Astronomy tower; _this_ the final resting place of the "Light's Chosen Champion".

**This** is what all his careful scheming had wrought: a wondrous child driven by despair to take his own life.

**This** was how he'd repaid the Potter's sacrifice.

**This** was the end result of his obscene delusions when he consoled himself that Sirius' imprisonment had served a higher purpose for "the greater good".

**This** was the net gain for letting, nay.. _encouraging_ Snape to persecute a kind and courageous child who craved nothing more than acceptance from peers and some measure of anonymity from strangers.

As terrible a tragedy as this is, it could have been less so, had he but the courage to match the boy's own; Harry's body lie writhing upon the Ministry's shattered floor; demanding with Voldemort's voice to be killed, tempted though he was, he could not risk taking the chance as Voldemort would undoubtedly vacate before the _killing curse_ did its dread work.

But,... there had been that fleeting moment when Harry had held sway,... when his eyes changed back to their pleading green and with his own voice he'd begged...

"Do it now... I can't hold him long... do it n-now...!"

_Such valor_... fueled by an immense, unwavering love for one's fellows. Had he but the semblance of the boy's own courage he could have finished it.

**True**; the boy would have been lost, but so too would Voldemort have met the true death.

Ancient knees unused to bending even in their youth fell to the blood stained lawn. Bitter tears came not for oneself but for that which was now lost.

Tears came not for the loss of a "prophesy's child"or a "champion" or even for "the boy who lived", but for a boy. A sweet, caring, courageous boy who knew so little of love yet held more love than most would ever know.

* * *

**Two days earlier...**

"Please understand, Mr. Potter... their families are very distraught just now and emotions are running high. Just please.. give them some time to adjust? Hopefully everything will sort itself out and tomorrow you can visit your friends." Madam Pomfrey beseeched him, offering hope that never quite reached her eyes with its sincerity.

Now that Sirius was gone all that was left to him were the friends that currently occupied the infirmary. Thankfully, most of their injuries were minor, but Ron and Hermione were badly wounded and it was his fault. He knew and apparently so did their families as Madam Pomfrey was trying to be polite, but the message was clear: GO AWAY.

Tremulously he nodded his acceptance and ghosted away from the infirmary door that the nurse was effectively barring his entry to.

All that was left to him was... nothing.

Yet another moment in a life filled with them where the best of intentions ultimately ended in ruination.

_Why am I so stupid?_

_Why couldn't he have " kept his head down" as McGonagal had warned him too._

_Why did he always barge ahead without thinking things through first?_

_And why,.. why couldn't Dumbledore have ended this madness when he'd given him the chance?_

The headmaster had known the prophesy, he'd knew it all the time, and still he'd not acted in that brief moment when Harry had given him the chance.

_Why...?_

_And despite everything, he just knew that tomorrow's papers would be full of Voldemort's return._

_He wouldn't then be vindicated in the public's eye, just vilified for having allowed Voldemort's second return to power._

_It would start all over again as it did every year: The open stares of contempt and distrust. The whispers behind ones back. Maybe they'd even come up with an updated- "Potter Stinks" button._

He'd weathered it before, but at least he had Ron and Hermione's support then. Now he was alone though. It would be like the magical world's version of "Harry Hunting" only with nowhere to run and no place to hide. Two more years of _that _to look forward to after another summer of the Dursley's... _no thanks_.

Woodenly he made the trek to his dormitory, thinking to pack his trunk and make a run for it. He hadn't any idea to where, only that anywhere was better than here and what the future held for him.

_What more could they do to him? What else could they take? _

Unfortunately he was about to find out.

* * *

Harry stumbled through the portrait hole to the Griffyndor common room finding it unusually packed for this time of day, considering it was a bright summer day outside and tests were over for the school year.

All conversation ceased the moment he entered the room and eyes turned his way. Some were far more hostile than he would have ever guessed from those he knew as not really friends, but at least being 'friendly acquaintances'. Others looked sick and turned away or let their gazes fall to the floor as if they were ashamed of something.

He wished the twins were here to at least make a joke or say something outrageous to lighten the mood.

From the corner of his eye he saw Katie Bell nervously approach him. He couldn't fathom what could be so bad or what could have happened for her to look that way. She was always a bright, confident person, one of the many reasons she'd made head girl this year.

She stopped just in front of him and in a hushed tone of voice apologized...

"I-I'm sorry , Harry..."

_OH-No,... Ron... Hermione...one of them must've..?_ His mind reeled as he waited on her next words that he knew would further shatter his existence.

Katie continued... "but we,.. er, that is.. most of us... have decided,.. that is... we took a vote and well,..." Katie struggled to finish and failing that.. Seamus Finnigan, in all his smug glory, obliged by cutting in sarcastically...

"You're out, Potter." he sneered triumphantly."Four of our own in the infirmary, two of them fighting for their lives and all because of YOU!"

"I-I'm out?" Harry echoed hollowly, not understanding what they were telling him, though he clearly understood their hostility over current events as he loathed himself far more than they could.

He turned his puzzled eyes back toward Katie, who was fidgeting and wiping at her eyes with the pad of her hand.

"O-Out of Gryffind-dor.."she clarified tremulously. Stunned though he was, he could at least tell by her reaction that she hadn't wanted this, whatever this was?

Honestly, he hadn't a clue what this all meant, so he asked. "Er, um,.. what does that mean; "Out of Gryffindor"?"

He found out what it meant when Dean Thomas and Jack Sloper heaved his, already packed, trunk forward and wished him a fond adieu in the form of a sneering, disdain filled flick of the chin toward the exit that clearly stated..GET LOST.

Shocked though he was by this turn of events he least thought to ask for the return of his owl's cage.

Katie Bell broke down completely at that and was helped to a chair by Alicia Spinnet, who, for her part, didn't seem to keen on the direction her housemates were taking things.

Angelina Johnson explained to him that the inquisitorial squad had taken his having escaped them badly and had cowardly retaliated by...

Harry stumbled and nearly fell backward in shock... his beloved Hedwig...gone...

Distantly, he remembered hands pulling away his Gryffindor stripped tie and another tearing his former house patch from his robes before they guided him out through the portrait and changed the password to ensure he couldn't reenter.

Some few, he noted, were crying as he left, though who they were beside Katie he couldn't really grasp, such was his state of utter shock and dejection.

Many more seemed celebratory and were congratulating each other as he left... these people's faces were indelibly etched on his mind's eye.

He may not have known all their names, but he would forever remember their smug faces.

He had been consoling himself that at least he still had Hedwig to keep him company in his trek out into the world whilst searching for a better life. This world had proved to be every bit as cruel and uncertain as the one he thought he was escaping from every first of September.

* * *

The next morning found a lone figure clinging to the edge of the astronomy towers' ramparts. Though it was early summer, the nights still held a spring chill to them, especially for one having slept outdoors overnight.

The blue bell flames he'd conjured had done little to ward off the encroaching night's chill. All the struggling flames had been good for was a light to see by and what he saw only added to his melancholy.

An empty cage... A trunk filled with stained and oversized cast-off clothes. A picture album that was little more than a stark reminder of what he'd not only lost but had never really even known in the first place.

A mirror... A mirror that he'd forgotten he had and now he would never need let alone for as little as to cast his reflection in... **it** now repulsed him.

The fire he'd set in his trunk after that had at least proved sufficient to ward off the cold long enough for him to drift off into a troubled sleep.

He awoke near midday; having escaped dawn's first waking rays beneath the shelter of the rampart wall.

His joints were stiff from the cool paves upon which he'd slept- he didn't care.

His stomach growled ominously, having not partaken of food in longer than it cared to remember- he didn't notice.

The ash of all that he once owned, in the world, swirled away on the breeze making him feel strangely _free._

Free and unencumbered as he hadn't felt since,... well, since ever.

He sat contemplating this, oblivious to the sights and sounds of the castle and grounds beneath his perch on the tower.

The day passed and the sun was beginning to set when a soft throat clearing disturbed his lengthy repose. Normally, he would have welcomed the company, any company. But just now he found the interruption an unwelcome bother.

Still it was better that dwelling on thoughts of what will never be.

He glanced over his shoulder to find Susan Bones cautiously approaching with a copy of the 'Prophet' twisted in her tremulous grasp. Today's late edition had, for once, accurately recorded the events at the ministry. He couldn't know it, but the whole of his former house were currently reading those events and feeling none too proud of themselves for what they'd unthinkingly done to a truer Gryffindor than most.

Susan had always been kind to him. She was pretty in a natural unassuming way. Susan had bouncy strawberry-blonde hair that framed soft cheeks and an even softer pair of blue eyes. She also had a nicely kept figure and a voice that was a music all its own.

He's secretly fancied her for some time not that she or anyone else would ever be interested for that matter.

"W-Why?" Susan asked apprehensively. "Why did h-he have to die?"

He didn't bother to ask to _whom_ she referred, he already knew. Susan was asking about Cedric as she had many times before. No matter what he answered nor how placating, she never seemed mollified and eventually returned to ask the same thing over again.

His mind scrambled for yet another platitude that might give her some measure of comfort, but eventually he decided- _why bother._

_Maybe she needed to hear the truth? Why though,.. what good had telling the truth ever really done him?_

_He had the scars to prove it indelibly etched into the back of his hand for posterity's sake._

_OH... what the hell..._

"He died for no other reason other than that he was in the way." Harry answered coolly.

"B-But couldn't he have dodged or couldn't you have intervened.. something?" she nearly begged, not nearly fathoming the absolute pointlessness of her friend's death.

"It all happened to fast. By the time we even registered the shock of someone so callously throwing out the 'killing curse' it was too late. I imagine it was much like what a fly experiences sitting on a wall; one minute you're there minding your own business and the next-splat!"

His analogy, though accurate, was a harsh reminder of the delicacy of life.

He expected her to burst into tears, maybe even flee the area wailing in her despair and helplessness.

What he got instead was anger.

"Why then? Why didn't you kill him when you had the chance?" Susan nearly screamed in accusation, brandishing the newspaper where he could just barely make out a picture of himself trying to duel back against Voldemort in the Ministry's atrium.

"I couldn't..." he returned bleakly, turning his eyes away despondently. He hadn't the power or the experience to even make a dent let alone finish the job.

Susan snorted disdainfully at that in sarcastic amusement. "Then what good are you?"

**_Shattering._**

Months and years would pass as he considered what was more _shattering? _Those words said in the heat of righteous anger and disappointment or the ground upon which he'd thrown himself.

He realized in that moment that he was the fly. He was nothing more than a fly and a _spare_ one at that.

He had no possessions, no home, no friends left, nothing.. except a nutter out to kill him just to show the world that he could.

It was just a matter of time before the inevitable occurred and-Splat!

The only real unknown in the equation was how much more he would be forced to suffer before- splat!

It was then in that darkest of moments that he decided he would rob Voldemort of his future victory and thereby save himself that much more suffering and loneliness.

_Then what good are you? _Susan had asked.

He answered in the only way he knew how in that darkest of moments... he jumped.

* * *

"NO...GOD IN HEAVEN-Nooooo!"

Susan had no conscious recollection of how long she stood staring blankly at the spot on the rampart wall that Harry had thrown himself from. It wasn't until the screams coming from below tore her from her state of utter shock.

She haltingly dared to peer over the edge of the astronomy tower's ramparts finding the horror she knew she'd find lying broken on the lawn below.

In the last rays of twilight's demise she saw Professor McGonagal clutching desperately at a broken figure as a dark stain spread out ever wider from beneath them.

"No , dear child of the light ... no? Lily flower... James, Sirius,.. help me,... please don't take him from us!" McGonagal sobbed and begged as she cast every charm she could think of to try and preserve what life still remained in his broken shell.

Minerva McGonagal had been recovering from her many wounds, (at the hands of aurors led astray by Umbridge), when the news of the Ministerial battle broke only to be followed by the Order arriving to inform her that yet another of their number had fallen.

All she could think of in that moment is that her dearest cub would need her. Harry's last _true_ family in the world was gone and all anyone could do was whisper in fear over Voldemort or blame the child openly for not defeating him when they'd dueled.

_Defeat him? Bah- what madness; pitting a fifteen year old against a master sorcerer with years and years of experience and a penchant for killing._

She'd left the hospital on shaky legs with cane in hand, only... too late.

She'd no sooner had the castle doors in sight when a smallish figured fell to the Castle's lawn with a sickening- _whumph._

She couldn't see who from the distance she was yet away, but she'd known. She'd known it was her dear cub. She could feel her heart shatter just as he did at that moment of impact.

She would have dropped then and there to vent her grief were it not for the fleetest of hope that he might yet survive, impossible as that may sound.

But when had the impossible not aligned itself with Harry Potter?

Fervently she begged and pleaded with all she knew to spare the boy and thereby spare the rest of us. She knew what the 'prophesy' foretold just as she knew and had seen through all of Dumbledore's many machinations to see it come to fruition.

She cursed herself many times for letting his view hold sway. Now, finally, when she'd decided once and for all to intervene on the boy's behalf.. only- too late.

Not for the rest of Magical Britain, she didn't care a whit. They'd made their own mistakes and were about to reap their just rewards. What she cared for, all she cared for lie broken in her arms. His precious life was spreading out across the lawn and his once vibrant green eyes were dimming.

The last ray of twilight held them captive as if the world itself struggled to hold on a moment longer to keep the dark at bay, clinging to the boy's broken form in desperate hope.

The world itself seemed to be holding it's breath.

It was in that faintest of moments that Minerva's aged eyes beheld a miracle: the boy's chest rose and fell,... and rose again.

Minerva gasped in renewed hope casting the strongest preservative spell she knew before gathering the boy to her breast and trudging off toward the distant gate so she could apparate them directly to St. Mungo's, not daring to entrust him to even Madam Pomfrey's care as she was a Dumbledore supporter thru and thru.

* * *

**Later that day... **

"**Dead..." **a despairing voice monotoned from the Great Hall's entry. "The child is dead..." Minerva paused, wiping at her eyes with a linen handkerchief that was already wringing wet.

What little noise from subdued conversation had silenced from the first. Now, the Hall was filled with shocked gasps of denial and shrieks of dismay.

No one had bothered to ask who she was referring to- they knew. Just as they knew who was ultimately responsible... themselves. They'd all contributed in some fashion or another.

Professor McGonagal stumbled wearily into the Hall. Her tartan robes were stained with copious amounts of blood- his blood.

Young witches began to openly cry into their hands or fall into each other's comforting grasp as the shock ebbed and reaqlity began to settle in.

McGonagal pulled herself up short at the Gryffindor table where none dared meet her accusatory gaze.

She'd known what they'd done. She knew from the moment her eyes discerned the missing emblem on his blood stained robes.

Without preamble she cast a spell,(as head of house), that removed the entire table's signet from their robes. "I see no Gryffindor's here." she announced with utter disdain dripping from her every word.

"Minerva.. perhaps.." Dumbledore's voice cut in, rising from his seat.

McGonagal's eyes snapped toward the table from the head table. "Be silent you fool!" she scathed, taking some slight satisfaction in the way he slumped back pale faced in his chair.

"Do you at last feel vindicated?" she growled out in utter contempt, focusing her ire on the man responsible for today's tradgedy. "Have you at last taken all that you could from the child in taking the last thing he had- his life?"

Dumbledore seemed to fold in on himself, looking the frail old man that his years should, but had never indicated before.

McGonagal turned the knife. "Not that he ever had even the remotest semblance of a life... you saw to that** personally** by placing him with neglectful, abusing relatives that despised him through no fault of his own save being born magical. But that wasn't enough.. no?" she smirked triumphantly going for the throat.

"When he finally was allowed to escape his tormentors you replaced one abuse for another by turning your pet death eater loose on him." Minerva nodded her chin meaningfully toward Snape who was still staring in shock at the unfolding drama around him.

Students were crying openly in shame and regret as were many among the staff.

Temporarily she turned her riotous anger from Dumbledore to Snape. "Happy with yourself, Severus?" she simpered with anything but sympathy for his plight.

She pulled at her robes meaningfully. "This is all that remains of Lilly's child within these walls."

Snape lowered his eyes despondently toward his cooling meal.

"Look at it, damn you!" McGonagal shouted in his face.

Snape's eyes snapped back up to stare in horror at the display. The acrid smell of blood assaulted his nose as he fought the bile threatening to rise up the back of his throat.

"You've always wanted his blood, well here it is. Tell me... which half is your beloved Lily's and which is your hated school yard nemesis?"

Snape's head snapped back in revulsion and self loathing at that. With an anguished cry he bolted from his seat and fled the Hall.

"Ever the coward..." McGonagal commented off handily in his wake, dropping her robes back into place with a satisfied sigh of having made some accomplishment.

Her gaze swept the Hall taking in the mournful, dour mood that had followed her arrival.

"Badgered, bullied and vilified by his own." she commented toward all of them, her eyes traveling toward the Slytherin table where she was pleased to see that even Draco Malfoy appeared genuinely distressed.

"Enjoying your evening edition of the "Prophet" Mr. Malfoy?" she asked smugly, eyeing the paper displayed in his trembling grasp.

"There it is for all of you to see with your own eyes. He's back- yes? Apparently Mr. Potter was telling the truth. Not that it matters now. Tell me, Mr. Malfoy.. you fancy yourself Mr. Potter's better in all things..." she reminded the ponce of a bully. "...is that thing he's dueling with on the front page something you'd care to face in a duel?"

She was rewarded with Draco's face taking on a greenish tinge. "What no smart remark? No glib reply,... how unbecoming of a Malfoy? Look at that **thing** that your rich, pureblood father bows and scrapes to. Now that he's locked away I suppose your next in line to prostrate yourself before that monster alongside your demented aunt?"

Her words were rewarded with Draco sicking-up at the mental image of what his life was to become.

"M-Minerva.. really..?" Dumbledore tried reason but was cut off again.

"I said be silent!" Minerva shrieked in the old man's face. "The last Potter is dead. Lily's child dead on these very lawns. Gone now.. and with all hope for the rest of us gone with him."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to try and dissuade her but she would not be denied as she shouted the contents of the prophesy out 'word for word' for all to hear.

If she'd thought the Hall was as a whole shocked and regretful before that was as nothing compared to the pall that settled over the student body.

"We will fight as if all hell depended on our winning, for it will. Naught but death, slavery and worse lie in store for us should Voldemort win." she pronounced soulfully.

"Think on this in the dark days ahead. Think on this when you go into battle or choose outright to submit to the inevitable. Think on how you might have gone into battle with an acute sense of hope in your ultimate triumph had you but ears to hear with and eyes to see."

"A champion stood among you. He wanted neither accolades nor worship for his many deeds."

At this McGonagal paused to recant all of Harry Potter's past deeds that were as little more than idle gossip and rumor among the whole of wizarding Britain, let alone the student body.

Seeing the still incredulous looks and disbelief on many faces she looked to Dumbledore to confirm her accounting.

"Do I exaggerate?"

Though the old man loked stricken unto death at this point, he managed to nod and state desolately for the record.. "If anything you are too modest in your summation, Minerva."

McGonagal turned challenging eyes on the whole of the student body, singling out a few for effct."Take on a sixty foot basilisk, Mr. Malfoy, and perhaps, for once, you will have actually earned the right to brag the way you do. "

Malfoy did the unexpected and broke into bitter tears.

"And you, Mr. Finnigan.. why don't you take a stand for what is true and accurate at the expense of your peace and personal self respect, lost for no more than your willingness to tell the truth, no matter how unbecoming that truth may be?"

Seamus Finnigan was rewarded with many friends and supporters moving their chair surreptitiously farther away from his person.

Minerva was satisfied to see that Seamus was about to get the "Harry Potter" treatment in spades.

Minerva saved the best for last, she felt she owed it to Harry despite her misgivings.

Susan Bones sat trembling with her friend, Hanna Abbot rubbing supportive circles on her cask and cooing reassuringly in her ear.

McGonagal strode up to the young Hufflepuffs and addressed Susan with a bit of sympathy in her tone despite what she was about to relay.

"You have lost both your parents, a devastating loss to be sure. Imagine if you will what it would mean to lose your Aunt,.. your last remaining family in all the world?"

Susan closed her eyes and shook her head trying to fight back tears as she fought to dispel the image of her mind and lost.

At seeing her resolve sway, Minerva finished. "Now imagine in the wake of that losing your friends and having your entire house turn against you? Imagine the loss and despair, hoping for all the world to find nothing more than a supportive shoulder to cry out the injustice of it all, let alone a compassionate word from someone who could at least empathize with such loss?"

Susan's horror filled eyes shot open with a gasp as she realized that McGonagal knew. How she could have known she couldn't fathom, but she knew that Susan had been there in his darkest moment of need and had only served to make things worse.

Susan fled the Great Hall in tears of shame and revulsion, her friends hot on her heal shooting reproachful glares at McGonagal for having caused Susan further distress.

If anything their disproving looks helped her to feel somewhat vindicated in the child's behalf.

Sighing, Minerva Mcgonagal turned her attention back to the entire Hall and addressed them with more compassion than she felt or that they even deserved.

"Today, mourn... for tomorrow you will be going home. Go home and think on the events of this year and what they may or may not portend for the years ahead. Let us each come to grips with who we are and decide if it is who we wish to become. Let your hearts and your conscious be your guide. Harden yourselves for what lies ahead, for now, more so than ever before, we need each other. We can yet prevail if we unite as one mind and one voice.

If you can do it for no other reason,... than do it for him."

That said, McGonagal left the Hall an emotional wreck, planning to take her own advice over a large glass of her native scotch.

She hadn't hardly sipped more than a finger's width of single malt when a tentative knock sounded at the door of her private quarters.

She smirked , eyeing the waiting glass she had prepared for just such visitor.

Albus Dumbledore quietly let himself in, knowing he required only to announce his intention as they were old friends and such formality of requiring an invitation was long since lost on the two of them.

Albus lowered himself into the adjoining side chair and helped himself to the waiting drink, sighing with pleasure after a healthy swig passed his lips.

"Quite a performance, Minerva." He saluted his counterpart with his glass, half in appreciation for the drink as well as the speech she'd delivered.

"He deserved all of it and more, if you ask me." She quipped.

Albus nodded, not even considering the challenge in that statement.

"And much more." he agreed.

"I meant every word of it." She countered, wanting him to realize his part.

He nodded and with a sigh he agreed. "And I deserved it. I could not see the forest for the trees, as they say. Now, because of my shortsightedness, Sirius is dead and Harry lies at death's door."

He recounted his actions at the ministry and what had transpired between Harry, he and Voldemort.

Minerva listened to the story without so much as batting an eyelash. If anything she was that much more proud of her cub.

"You should have killed him when Harry afforded you the chance." she decided.

Dumbledore shrugged helplessly. "Maybe. Maybe we might have destroyed the dark lord in the process, but killing Harry would have been a certainty either way."

McGonagal too sighed at the difficulty of such a decision, but steadfastly retained that... "Harry would have held him as long as it took to see it done. He would have found a way."

Dumbledore contemplated the remains of his glass which he swirled idly in his hands. Eventually he answered her, though he was perhaps speaking as much to himself as he was her.

"I know that, but when it came right down to it I just couldn't ... I just couldn't sacrifice the boy. As much as it might have ridded the world of the horror that is Voldemort, how much more so is the horror that I would be depriving the world of such a child?"

Dumbledore finished his glass and with a regretful sigh he admonished. "I'm too old; too old for war and certainly too old to make the hard choices. Had I taken the chance some positive outcome might have at least come from all this misery. Now, the child is as good as dead as if it was from my own wand. That, and Voldemort is free to wage his war unchallenged."

"Old yes, but you've still got a little left in the tank, as they say." Minerva contradicted. "You still had the balls to call in Croaker and his lot." She complimented him though her face held an odd look of foreboding despite her feisty return.

Dumbledore smirked at his second's language and would have scolded her if it would accomplish anything.. which it wouldn't.

"Probably too little too late." he sighed wearily. "Even if Lewis's people can work some miracle or other, the boy will never be the same." He shuddered inwardly at what that fate just might portend. He wasn't deluding himself that the effort was nigh impossible nor that if they were successful just what measures might be employed to reach the level of "impossible".

It was left to the Unspeakables to see if they could perform the impossible and save the child from his many impact wounds.

* * *

Finally all avenues of desperation failed as the healers were forced to accept the inevitable.

The lead healer, Garth Samuels stood back from the boy's blood soaked gurney and his eyes traveled to the clock on the wall. He tracked the course of the second hand as he listened to the monitor's signal of the child's fading heart beat.

Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep...

The distance between those ominous alerts was growing wider and the Healer's dry lips parted as he readied to call out his final verdict for a patient that he wanted so much to save.

The announcement was on the tip of his tongue when Unspeakables swarmed into the emergency surgical suite.

He'd barely even began to protest when their head displayed his credentials as he'd rarely done before as usually the uniform with its many pips on the collar was more than enough validation.

Healer Samuels gaped at the name and rank that denoted the shrouded person looming before him. When the man withdrew his hood enough to reveal his face as the one indicated by his credentials, the healer went weak in the knees.

The Unspeakables took the child without a moment's pause.

The Head Unspeakable asked pointedly for the healer to verify..."Time of death?"

This person's credentials were such that no witch or wizard, not even the Minister of Magic himself, would question his authority in any and all matters.

"S-Six thirty-eight pm.." the healer stammered, understanding the order he was being given.

The Unspeakable nodded, closing his wallet and tucking it away in the folds of his dark blue Unspeakable's robes.

With a last.. "You never saw me... I was never here." He swept from the room knowing that none in the room would ever utter a word otherwise.


	2. Chapter 2: The boy who died

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Chapter Two: The boy who died.**

Every news paper headline in Magical Europe heralded the death of Harry Potter. People mourned openly in the streets. Others quaked in fear over what would befall them now at the hands of Voldemort.

The child of destiny was gone and the light's leader; Albus Dumbledore had fought Voldemort in an epic duel, but was unable to defeat the dreaded Dark Lord.

With the heir apparent,(Harry Potter), dead and Albus Dumbledore's legendary magical power insufficient to the task; Magical England's future prospects for peace and freedom seemed very grim indeed.

So what did the magical public do? It did what it usually does; pointed fingers and assigned blame.

Merlin forbid the sheep should rise up and defend **themselves** from the wolves in their midst.

They at least got one or two things right in the firestorm that followed Harry's death.

Cornelius Fudge was the first to go and good riddance to incompetent, self serving, graft ridden non-leadership.

He was followed immediately after by his senior undersecretary: Delores Umbridge. The only sad part there was that she unaware of this development as she was currently heavily sedated in the psychiatric ward of 's, oblivious to her much deserved sacking and the public outcry for her head.

Amelia Bones was immediately instituted as the interim Minister. She immediately increased funding and broader powers to her aurors and hit wizards. Unlike her predecessor, she not only allowed the Unspeakables to enter the fray, but actually begged them for their assistance in the mounting war. They were only too happy to comply.

The second thing she did was bring to trial all known Death Eaters captured during the Battle of the Ministry. Pleas of innocence by _Imperius curse _were dismissed without a moment'sconsideration. Only cold hard facts were entered into court. They were caught in Death Eater garb and bore the mark of their twisted leader. The mark itself was well known badge of revulsion and dishonor garnished through murder and rape. The accused wands were scanned; revealing dark and unforgivable curses. Lastly, testimonial accounts of eye witnesses heard and after deliberation and sentencing an immediate execution was not only warranted, but expected.

The line was drawn after that. Death Eaters caught in future were to be executed with extreme prejudice. Their family fortunes forfeit to the ministry to be distributed toward the war effort and to those victimized by the Death Eater's acts of wanton terrorism

There would be no more bribes for clemency taken.

The auror contingent at Azkaban was immediately tripled. There would be no more break outs from Azkaban only to beleaguer the British public again and again.

This was war against terrorism and oppression. The only acceptable outcome was the elimination of one's foes to ensure ones complete and total victory.

These and many other changes were sorely needed in the face of what lie ahead in the campaign against Voldemort.

The only question was: if it was already too late?

* * *

Arthur Weasley sighed and wearily folded up his copy of the Daily Prophet, passing it off to his eldest son.

What he'd thought was in the best interest of his family paled in the light of another day. He'd wanted his youngest children out of continued "Harry Potter adventures" that only grew more daring and subsequently- more dangerous, every year.

They'd accomplished great things together-true, but he was still their father and he'd wanted them safe and secure. He and Molly along with the Grangers only wanted a bit of time to decompress and set some ground rules for everyone's protection. They never wanted to sever friendships and cause heartache... especially not like this.

**Harry was dead.**

Dumbledore had solemnly informed them the night before of what transpired. Though Albus assumed much of the responsibility for things; Arthur knew that he and Molly along with the Granger Parents were as much to blame as if they'd pushed the boy themselves.

_God above, what had they been thinking? _

The bitter truth was that they hadn't. They hadn't thought about how Harry had lost his last true family. They hadn't even considered, in the face of their children's injuries, how grievously wounded their surrogate child and children's best friend was.

They, like everyone else, held Harry to a different standard; one that didn't recognize they were placing their expectations and burdens on a teen age boy.

Arthur Weasley's saddened eyes traveled the width of the Hogwart's infirmary. Never before could he remember so many beds filled by the emotionally wounded, with such a pall of misery present in place of hope.

Molly lay next to her youngest son's cot. She was heavily sedated and Ron was still unconscious from his wounds and blissfully unaware of the horror that awaited his recovery when he would learn that his best friend was gone.

His youngest daughter was being held and consoled by her older brother, Charlie. Ginny had yet to meet her father's pleading eyes and he was beginning to worry that she never would, such was her rage bourne of grief and despair.

His twin sons held camp away from their siblings, keeping vigil over Ron. Their usually jovial presence nowhere in evidence as each quietly comforted the other. As far as they were concerned; they'd lost one of their own and were in obvious mourning. Fred, the more boisterous and gregarious of the two,(which was saying something), was sobbing desolately whilst his brother clung supportively beside him trying to fight back his own tears and failing.

Hermione's mother was staring vacantly out the window of the infirmary. Her arms were wrapped around herself as if trying to ward off a chill that she never would. Her husband rubbed reassuring circles on her back and cooed gently to his wife, all the while casting worried glances toward his unconscious daughter.

No doubt the two were faced with the dilemma, as he and Molly were, of what to tell their child when she finally awoke.

What could they say that would make them accept their best friend was gone? That their parents, in their grief and shock; had dismissed their stricken friend, thoughtlessly blaming him for their children's injuries.

How could they make them understand what it was to see your children lying wounded and fighting for their lives? How in that moment of despair all you can think to do is shelter them from more harm. How could they help them to see how terribly sorry and unintentionally destructive they'd thought their actions had been?

They couldn't.

* * *

Lewis Croaker spent hours keeping vigilant watch not knowing whether his charge would ever wake or not, and if so, how would he respond to the necessary changes made in desperation to save his flagging life?

They, thus far, had accomplished only something they'd ever even considered in theory. The ramifications of which were both astounding and horrific. The fact that he was still seemingly alive was nothing short of a miracle.

For all he knew they may have just bridged the age old quest for immortality, after a fashion. Lewis Croaker wouldn't be seeking any Nobel Prize, however, but rather complete anonymity as one would expect from an arguable, .

None of his researchers or medical personnel had any notion of whether or not what they had done was in anyway successful.

Sure, the lights were on, but was anyone home?

The body lived. Its heart beat and lungs pumped air in and out, but was the boy still with us? Had his soul remained or had it departed upon initial death?

It hadn't gone unnoticed that the Death Chamber was in an uproar since the boy's heart had stopped and the transfer had been made. The veil was billowing violently and the whispers from within had rose to deafening crescendo from the advent of the boy's initial death. t was clear that many parties on the other side were greatly disturbed on the whole.

All anyone could do now was wait and worry over what they'd done and whether or not if it had actually worked, let alone if it was actually the right thing to do.

Thus, the head of the Unspeakables watched and waited as he considered the ramifications of his actions.

If Harry Potter survived he would need a lot of help, help that the Unspeakables were only to eager to provide.

Too long had they been kept in reserve, forced to watch and wait as the Dark Lord was allowed to kill and recruit unchecked.

The boy had been as a beacon of hope for the wizarding world and as usual; their world had squandered so priceless a resource.

The Unspeakables would not. They knew treasure when they saw it. Only, they did not intend to exploit him, no, they would help him in any and every way possible. He would be trained for and assisted in his dread task. That and Croaker vowed that for once the boy would be cared for and appreciated as one with so much courage and compassion deserves to be.

_The boy shames us all._ Lew Croaker pondered desolately.

How his cousin could have failed one of her precious cubs he couldn't imagine. Minerva had always been so protective of her lions. On their monthly luncheons she would fill their conversation with tales of the boy's adventures along with his stalwart friends, the famous "Golden Trio".

Idly he wondered how the other two thirds were faring during this bitter time. He wished he could give them some measure of comfort, some inkling that all may have not been lost, but he dared world was about to take a violent turn for the worse and if it was known that the boy survived, in any capacity, Voldemort would never stop from seeking the boy's permanent all, the foul vermin's life depended on the boy dying, whether he wholly knew that or no. Lewis Croaker suspected he did and now with thinking the boy dead, the dark lord would waste little time in stepping up his attempts to conquer magical Britain.

Croaker had been so eager to meet the child, knowing he was a prime candidate to join their ranks upon had planned to make an initial contact once his OWL's were completed, hoping to arrange an apprenticeship or at the very least allow for some advanced training and, or study.

Now, all he could do was keep vigil, hoping...

Hoping that what they'd done would prove sufficient to preserving the child's life and providing for some semblance of a future.

Hopefully that future was for more than just dying at the hands of a madman.

Hoping and praying.

Praying, desperately praying that if he lived the boy would understand what was done, let alone except and hopefully, in time,.. forgive.

A strange notion for an Unspeakable, but the boy was not an Unspeakable, at least not yet.

Unspeakables did what was necessary, no matter what. One life for many would seem wholly inconsequential in the greater scheme of things. Not that they ever sold themselves cheaply. Nay, they would never sacrifice one of their own if there was any other possible way and even if there wasn't, they'd find one.

If the worst should occur and one of their number was forced to sacrifice themselves to save his or hers fellows... they would be remembered, remembered and avenged.

Lewis Croaker had left Potter's room only to attend his many duties, albeit briefly and only when absolutely necessary. He even ate in and used the facilities adjoining the boy's room so as not to be away when, and if, his charge awoke.

Lewis Croaker had known the Potter's, both Lily and James. He'd recruited the both, but James was set on being an auror along with his best friend and constant cohort: Sirius Black.

Lily was a genius at charms and was much desired in their research and spell crafting divisions.

They at least were able to obtain her services in a limited, reserve capacity, and were grateful for having that much.

Such a horrific waste; losing the two of them on no more than a madman's quest for power and immortality. So much more so would that compound if they lost the child now.

He remembered meeting young Harry when Lily had brought him to work one day, not trusting him to a sitter. It was just before the Potters went into hiding. Harry was the image of his father, only with his mother's mesmerizing eyes and gentle boy was curious and his young, unassuming eyes gleamed with intelligence. That and he radiated power at a level that was staggering. It was so rare to see accidental magic in one so young, especially occurring so often and at such a high it took a few years for the magical core to develop enough for the child to even do a rare _summoning_ of a beloved toy though, he had disappeared from his very office causing an all out panic. An immediate search ended when he was found to have apparated back to his mother's surprised arms, much to her exasperation... and pride. Lewis could empathize as Lily was someone everyone delighted in when around and missed when and those that knew her missed her still. She was that sort of person. On some level, Harry undoubtedly still ached terribly for her, whether he knew it or not.

Tired and more morose than he cared for; Lewis stepped out for a breath of fresh air and to grab a cup of coffee.

In no more than the space of five or ten minutes, since he'd left, all hell broke loose.

First screams filled the hall way. They were screams of shock and despair. Horrible heart wrenching screams that tore at the very soul.

Lewis tossed his coffee in the rubbish bin and flew back the way he'd come, running faster as the room ahead echoed with desperate pleas that grew to shouts of alarm from treating and support staff.

Lewis, himself, growled angrily in denial when he heard shouted _stunning spells_ from the room ahead.

He'd left the strictest of orders that the child, if he survived, was to be handled with the utmost caution initially.

His worry turned to surprise when the red light of stunners rebounded out of the room and ricocheted down the hallway he was in, forcing him to dive out of the way and roll back to his feet, barely sparing his forward momentum.

He'd hardly made the door with an order to desist on his lips when an Unspeakable healer/researcher came hurtling bodily out of the room, sending the two of them sprawling across the hall.

He'd just extracted himself from the unconscious man when a wind came out of nowhere, rising into a maelstrom. The wind fairly screamed it was moving so fast. He was battered and buffeted by all manner of objects despite herculean efforts to vanish his way clear. He'd just broached the boy's door when a pair of stunners hit the boy and his blue eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped unconscious to the floor.

"Damn-it all-to Hell!" Lew Croarker raged at the two Unspeakables, who for their part, had slumped back bodily against the wall in obvious relief, gasping for air with hands on knees.

Their cloaks lie in tatters, their bodies sported innumerable cuts and bruises as if they'd been in a fight for their very lives.

Two more of their fellows were strewn across the room. These were the sad remains of the guard posted on the child's room 24/7. One was unconscious the other groaning piteously whilst holding his bleeding head.

"I left strict orders that the boy was to be handled with extreme diligence." Croaker raged, stomping into the room.

His subordinates immediately snapped to attention with more energy than they'd known they still had. One was trembling as he gasped out in defense of himself and his comrades.

"W-We heard the screams and came running with wands drawn thinking he was under assault, but when we entered his room...e-everything just went .. wild..? I-It felt like the temperature shot up a hundred degrees and wind came out of nowhere. Stigma was already here, trying to reason with the lad, b-b-but the boy's hands shot forward and Stigma was sent flying out of the room like a dozen banishers hit em at once. Dozer went flying when he pulled his wand, and he goes a good hundred and twenty kilos of pure muscle?! Reaper and Griffon,"( his initial guard), " were sent careening into each other but managed to get off a couple of stunners each, much good as it did them.

Hunter and me dropped him with a pair of stunners just before you arrived. I- I swear it was self defense, Dragon."

His cohort, Hunter, was nodding emphatically in agreement.

Croaker walked up to the man and with a growl of frustration and outrage he pulled the cowl from his head revealing the man's identity.

Any protest he may have had at that was never vented as he stood quaking from his commander's close scrutiny. Lewis Croaker was the only Unspeakable who knew all the identities of those under his command, even those deeply undercover.

His subordinates were already groaning in understanding as he extrapolated. "Waking in a strange place,.. shocked by what he sees in the mirror..."at this Croaker pointed to the smashed mirror above the room's vanity and the trail of blood that led down to the boy's fist.

"Night blue robes and cowls hiding your identities... Come barging in with wands drawn in diminished light? What else was he to think, but-Death Eaters! I'd have assumed the same myself!" he spat out incredulously, his voice laced with extreme disgust.

His subordinate paled dramatically, his partner already groaning apologetically at their own foolishness.

In the man's defense, this was the first time any of them had someone recovering in their medical facilities that wasn't already one of their own.

Seeing that his point had sunk in successfully and knowing such mistakes would not be repeated in future, Croaker deflated somewhat, knowing he was as much to blame as they were, if he was honest with himself, which he always tried to be.

With a last sigh of regret, Croaker himself gathered up the boy and gently laid him back on his bed.

He could not fault them their wariness, if unthinking. The boy was not one of them, at least not yet.

All Unspeakables obscured their identities when in the public sector. Their cowls held special enchantments that shrouded their faces and altered their voices. Only their fellows knew each other. They were a fraternity, a family,.. and if you couldn't trust your own family than who could you trust.

In all their storied history only one among them had ever betrayed his fellows, Rookwood- curse his _memory_ because he'd been expediently dispatched once he'd aligned himself with Voldemort, committing treason against his own. The filth had even tried to recruit others within their ranks, for that he'd suffered long.

Croaker held the shroud up meaningfully shooting a glare from one to the next.

"Raven, you and Hunter guard the door. I'll have someone relieve you in ten to twelve hours- dismissed."

The two nodded gratefully and hastened to their posts without further comment, knowing that from Dragon, that was as much of an apology as they would ever receive.

Croaker cast a numbing charm over the boy's bloody knuckles before summoning the broken shards of glass from the wounds, once done, he _repairo'd_ the mirror, suspecting as he did that it would not be the first time he would need to do so in the coming weeks.

He'd barely finished when Stigma came stumbling up rubbing at the side of his, uncloaked and obviously bruised, head.

"Merlin, what happened?" the man grumbled warily, his eyes shifting to the, now unconscious, man on the bed that his commander was caring for personally. It was the first time that he'd ever seen his commander ever take so personal an interest in any of his operatives, and the boy wasn't even one of those as yet.

"You tell me?" Dragon returned with an appreciative tone, explaining.. "The boy doesn't even have a wand and he's far too old for accidental magic.

Stigma shot his commander a look of surprise before hastily pulling his own wand and running a scan over the object of their interest.

The healer/researcher's eyes widened at his wand's initial diagnostic. Shaking his head, believing he must have erred, he ran another diagnostic and another, and another...

Finally Dragon's hand pulled the man's wand hand aside pointedly.

"I-It can't be...It just can't be?" the man mumbled, still staring at his wand's display.

"What?"

The healer's eyes rose up to his commander's searching gaze. "H-His core.. he has two of them..?" The man murmured in disbelief.

"What,.. how..?" Croaker demanded.

The healer shrugged helplessly. "He shouldn't.. not with... wait a minute...?"

The man rushed out of his room to an adjoining one where he quickly ran a diagnostic over the body that was barely alive with the aid of extensive life support charms and even a muggle ventilator on standby just in case the charms failed.

Stigma ran the diagnostic a second time just to be sure before he compared the results of all both diagnostics from the two separate bodies.

Dragon had just entered having given up on waiting for the healer's return.

Before he could ask the healer blurted out his findings. "The .. (he was going to say the first body, but amended this),..Potter has two distinct cores in his body. One's relatively average, but the other's off the scale. It's like infused throughout his entire body and ,.. and it's growing... almost as if unchecked,.. l-like it's been held back from growing over the years. I...I can't understand that?" The man half apologized, half marveled over."

If Dragon was surprised he didn't show it in his facial expressions, asking instead with a note of suspicion.

"And his ,.. the other?" he amended, nodding toward the body on life support.

The healer's face took on a sickly pall as he only half heartedly glanced toward the struggling body. "T-There's something there... it's not a ..core per say like we initially thought, but it's magical. Only it's not centered in his chest, but rather around his head..?"

Croaker's eyes narrowed further as he pressed. "Where around his head exactly?"

"T-The right side...whatever it is, i-it's dark... very dark magic and it... it's...I.. don't know.. it's... sentient, but on a rudimentary scale. It's not like anything I've ever...?" the man struggled to explain his own unexplainable findings, shrugging helplessly as he did so, shifting his attention between his wand and his boss, but avoiding looking back toward the object of inquiry.

Croaker's eyes shot open in alarm as his own suspicions were confirmed in that instant. "Destroy it. Burn it to ash!" He barked out in horrified understanding.

"Wha,.. but you said...?" The man began to argue, but his commander brushed him aside bringing his own wand to bear.

"Incendio!" Croaker shot an overpowered flame curse and the body erupted in flames.

Though shocked by this turn of events from his commander's previous orders to preserve the body at all costs, he was that much more shocked to outright terror when a wailing screech of denial rose in a black inky cloud over a body that should have been soulless and devoid of any such response.

Even more alarming was when his commander barked out in rage at the wailing smoke...

"You filthy bastard! The boy and I will hunt you to the ends of the earth." he vowed and shockingly.. the cloud seemed to understand as it wailed even more despondently before it dissipated. The body collapsed in ash and naught but dust motes drifted away into the rooms filtration system.

Lewis Croaker's lip curled back in revulsion as he uttered a last. "Scum" before vanishing the smoldering ash from existence.

Many hours later, the boy began to stir. Blue eyes slowly cracked open. At first confused and disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings, they changed to understandably curious as they moved toward the room's only open door.

Stumbling woodenly, he paused, obviously perplexed by the way his body poorly responded to his commands.

Shrugging he continued to the bathroom and tended to his most immediate need and relieved his aching bladder. Initial sighs of relief morphed to an exclamation of surprise when he finally chanced to look down and absently realized things had _changed._

"Wha...What's going... on...?" a face appeared in the mirror above the vanity, one he didn't recognize.

His eyes went out of focus as he recalled having seen this vanity before. Having seen this face in it...the sound of breaking glass as his fist smashed said glass in shock and dismay over a reflection he didn't recognize.

Confusion turned to alarm as his hands went to his face. Alarm turned to surprise when his finger moved aside sandy brown hair, finding no lightning bolt scar there. A sigh of relief turned to tears of more confusion, that and disappointment.

The sort of disappointment one feels when they realize that somehow, someway they have survived and the nightmare they'd thought to escape was still ongoing.

Great racking sobs echoed from the porcelain lined bathroom as the boy cried for what was, but could now never be, even in his wildest imaginings. Eventually his crying diminished to sniffles as he reluctantly began to embrace his fate.

Steeling himself, he returned his gaze to the mirror and found not just one, but two unfamiliar faces staring back at him.

The other immediately held up his empty hands in a "non threatening" gesture.

"W-Who're you?" The boy stuttered over his own question, not recognizing his own voice.

"My name is Lewis Croaker, Mr. Potter." The man said plainly, adding a brief explanation. "I am the commander of the Unspeakables. You're currently in the Dept. of Mysteries' Medical Bay."

The boy seemed to mull this over briefly before half turning toward his vanity and putting a hand to his unfamiliar face in question. "D-Did you..?"

"Yes" Croaker returned honestly.

"W-Why?" The boy's voice cracked despondently.

"Please believe me that there was no other way. You're body was too heavily damaged, we.. we couldn't save it. You were slipping away and as extreme and _experimental_ endeavor as this was, it was the only thing we could think to do. Frankly, I'm actually astounded that it even worked." The man finished incredulously, trying and failing not to gap at his charge.

Harry Potter turned back and stared at his reflection in the mirror. At length he commented that..

"It feels weird... like... like I don't belong,... kinda like _polyjuice."_

The commander half sighed, half chuckled at that. "I imagine it does. Sorry if I seem amused, it's purely the irony as apparently I'm reliably told that you've had some prior experience with _polyjuice potion_."

Harry nodded absently, commenting vaguely.. "My second year. My friend.. er,..** I** ah,.. had some help with it." He hastily amended, not wanting to get Hermione in trouble for brewing a banned potion, however noble the reason.

Croaker smirked in understanding. "No doubt from Miss Granger's quarter? Her reputation precedes her as the "cleverest witch of her age"."

Harry turned wide eyed, suddenly worried for his friends... "Do they know I'm er..." he was going to say "ok" but he wasn't really sure he was that, being that he was in someone else's body; apparently a rather young, but still adult male wizard. He had sandy brown hair, blue eyes and was about six feet tall with an athletic build. He was at least relieved to see that he wasn't so short, scrawny and malnourished as he'd been his whole life.

Croaker grimaced at his young charge's question, answering truthfully that.. "I'm afraid not. The wizarding world believes you dead. Harsh though that sounds I think it prudent that we maintain that façade if we are to keep you off of Voldemort's radar, as it were?"

Harry nodded absently at that; both relieved and despairing.

At length he asked. "W-What do you want?" He was afraid that he already knew the answer but needed to hear it just the same.

The answer both confirmed his fears and surprised him.

"We want,.." Lew Croaker paused and finished more tactfully. "I won't lie to you, we **need** your help in ridding the magical world of Voldemort. That and we **want **to give you something in return."

"What's that; a one way ticket to Azkaban once the deed is done, assuming I'm not dead by then?" he shot back sarcastically. He had his fill of the Ministry's notion of a "fair deal". Sirius was proof of that both when he was alive and even more so now that he was dead.

Lew Croaker shook his head sadly. He couldn't blame the boy for his well earned animosity. Dumbledore, Fudge, Umbridge, all the 'powers that be' had wronged the boy one way or another and many times over at that.

Even the Unspeakables,(though they had had little choice), had imprisoned his soul in a body, in a continued existence that was not of his choosing.

He felt wholly vile in that moment, but was resolved to his course in the honest belief that he could and would offer the teenager the sort of fairness he was too often denied up to this point.

"As I said,.. I won't lie to you. I know of the _prophesy_ and I know that you are our only hope to eradicate the threat of Voldemort. I also know that your godfather has died and that he was innocent of the crimes to which he was accused. In that, I am truly sorry. Sorry that I cannot change what had passed, but I can and will do what is right by you in the future, from this moment forth."

At seeing Harry's sarcastic retort on the tip of the young man's tongue, Croaker held up a restraining hand as he pleaded his case.

"As I said, I won't lie to you. Yes, we hope, we... **beg **that you stay and aid us in the fight against Voldemort and pledge that you will not fight him and his alone. The Unspeakables stand ready to both train you and fight at your side. We are a family, of sorts, and we offer you a place within that family for however long you may wish to honor us with your presence. If you wish to leave, than go, with both our apologies for what has been done, but also with our profound regrets that you will not be counted among us both in the coming fight as well as within our family.

Your family fortune is being transferred as we speak to a secure vault. You need only to settle upon a new identity, which we will gladly establish for you, or maintain your true identity. Though I wouldn't necessarily recommend that course as certain, shall we say, _interested _parties will no doubt seek you out? Either way the entirety of what is yours will be returned to you to do with as you wish.

You could quit these shores for distant lands, free to live a life of peace and anonymity, and I wouldn't blame you in the least if you did."

After several moments Harry nodded with wary gratitude before he asked apprehensively. "T-That all sounds well and good, but I can't help wondering what's the catch?"

Lewis Croaker smiled appreciatively at that, liking the boy the more and more. A hard life had taught him to be necessarily wary of 'greeks bearing gifts'.

"There is no catch per say, unless of course you choose to remain and join our ranks. Do that and you will be trained-_properly_." he placed great emphasis on the word, explaining further:

"By _properly_ I mean you will get a crash course in being an Unspeakable. Normally that would take two years of advanced training with most recruits having successfully completed either Auror or Hit Wizard training as a perquisite. You would need to train the full two years and by that I mean 24/7 year round for two solid years, both in class and out in the field. Every day you'd undoubtedly want to quit. Everyday you'd curse both your instructors and I for your lot in life. The answer on why you suffer will come when every time you look in the mirror and you see a face that is not your own."

Harry turned and looked in the mirror at that, his new hand ghosting to the face he saw. It wasn't a bad face as faces went, if anything he could at least appreciate that he had manageable hair and that damnable scar was gone and thus far so was the throbbing never ending pain he'd always have had to endure. His finger traced the spot where it had been on his original body.

At seeing this, Croaker acknowledged the change and what had happened to his original body once he'd learned what it housed.

"A-Are there more of them... do you think?" Harry asked apprehensively, trying to swallow down the revulsion he felt at what he unknowingly carried within himself.

Croaker nodded with a distinct air of foreboding. "Several more I believe. Just how many I don't know. It's unconscionable to even contemplate such a thing let alone do it even the once. No sane wizard would do such a thing, .. but Voldemort?" Croaker shrugged his worry that Voldemort would probably consider such an undertaking negligible.

Harry nodded in agreement. "He would,.. I know he would. He's the most twisted, evil thing you can imagine."

Croaker smirked a half smile at that. "I can imagine quit e a bit, but I take your meaning."

"He wants to rule the world you know, not just Britain and he wants' to live forever while he's at it." he added in warning.

"I suspected as much, hence the horcruxes. He wants to make sure he gets there and stays on the throne once he does. He's a mad dog, , and he needs to be put down." Croaker expressed fixing his gaze on Harry pointedly.

"T-The prophesy again?" Harry asked tremulously, beginning to understand how everything always seemed to come back to the prophesy.

"The prophesy." Croaked affirmed stoically.

Shrugging helplessly, he amended. "Don't get me wrong? I'm not a believer in putting all our lives onto a teenage boy to save us. I'd like nothing better than a crack at the bastard myself, but I've seen enough over the years to know that once these damn things are initiated they have a way of becoming self fulfilling no matter how hard we try to avoid them. I wish I could tell you that in the face of all that's changed you could start over somewhere with a clean slate and never have to worry over this shite again,.. but I just don't think you and, or the rest of us have that kind of luck."

Harry sighed dejectedly at that. _Why can't anything ever be easy?_ _Even killing myself just made things more complicated._

"I-If I chose to stay?" he asked warily.

Croaker nodded understanding the lad's trepidation."Then maybe, just maybe you'll eventually decide you like the face in the mirror. I don't have all the answers, Mr. Potter. What I have is a broken person that we tried to fix solely because we felt he deserved a better chance than the one he'd originally gotten. The prophesy can go hang. Either way the Unspeakables are getting into the fight and Unspeakables only fight to win."

"Can I start training now?" Harry asked, having made up his mind. He wasn't a fool in that he could hide from the damn prophesy even in a body not his own.

"Tomorrow" Croaker commanded rigidly. Keeping the immense relief he felt out of his voice was something learned over many years of making hard decisions that sometimes cost lives.

"But it's early?" Harry argued. One day more or less didn't really matter in the scheme of things, but starting now would put him one day closer to seeing an end to this nonstop nightmare-one way or another.

Croaker tentatively put a hand reassuring to his young charge's shoulder. The boy stiffened on contact, but after a moment he relaxed, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

"Many of us have a funeral to attend as we'd like to pay our respects." He explained vaguely.

Harry nodded apologetically. "I-m sorry for you loss. Who, may I ask, died?" he asked respectively.

"You did." Croaker acknowledged with a knowing smirk. "Would you like to attend your funeral?"

Harry pulled a stricken face at that, but after some initial misgivings; what else did he have to do?

Two hours later Harry desperately wished he hadn't come. He'd never attended a funeral before and one's own was definitely not the place to start.

After a crash course in current events, Harry, along with a squad of Unspeakables, attended his funeral as both security and a show of respect for one of the nation's fallen heroes a sentiment that rankled him no end. They wore their Unspeakable uniforms that shrouded their identities, his lacking any rank insignia denoting a new recruit.

The sheer number of attendees was staggering. So much so that the quidditch pitch was used as it was the only viable seating option for such a large turnout.

Dumbledore had given the eulogy and was his usual elegant self.

All and all he'd held up well isolated as he was within a group of Unspeakables, who maintained a respectable distance. That was until they flanked the alter displaying photographs of his years at Hogwarts. There was no coffin per say as there was no remains other than a small measure of what ashes could be salvaged and placed in a smallish urn surrounded by several photos of himself during his years at Hogwarts.

Of course the pictures were all from Hogwarts, as if the Durley's had even so much as a baby picture of him within their sterile home.

He watched dispassionately as many mourners passed saying their final goodbyes. He tried and failed not to gag as Draco Malfoy stumbled up and apologized for years of ridicule.

_Puh-lease_.. the man was sorry only for his own lot as he was undoubtedly next on Voldie's radar as his new whipping boy.

_The crucios are a comin Draco!_

Things had taken a turn for the despairing when his once friends had halting made their way to the fore. Not surprisingly their guilt ridden parents remained in the background giving their children space

Hermione collapsed in tears of anguish into Ron's arms. His other best friend was trying and failing to comfort her in her abject misery, himself succumbing to his tears of profound sorrow as they clung desperately to each other.

Ginny was pale faced and appeared numb to the point of catatonia. She moved woodenly, supported by a crying Neville Longbottom who, for his part, was holding up slightly better than the others, partially because Luna was, on his other side, whispering encouragingly.

Trembling with emotion and consumed by his own deep seated guilt, Harry made a half step forward before a restraining hand clamped down, on his arm, holding him back.

His hooded visage turned toward his fellow and although he couldn't see Croaker's face he did register the slight shake of his head, warning him to not give himself away.

He'd been warned in advance that this would be difficult at best, terrible even, but even those sentiments hadn't prepared him for this.

Hermione's sobs tore at his heart. Ginny looked as if she'd never recover and Ron was barely holding himself together in his concerned worry for the two compounded by his own all consuming despair.

Neville was holding up only because Luna was rubbing circles on his back and cooing softly to the obvious object of her affections.

_Good for you, Nev._

Luna, though compassionate toward her friends, seemed almost indifferent herself, curious even. Frequently she scanned the crowds as if searching for something.

At length, Harry realized that Luna suspected he'd survived and was watching for a sign of his presence. Her strange insights seemed to border on the prophetic.

He could tell that Croaker was aware of the girl's curious behavior as his hooded visage hung warily in the girl's direction.

Finally, after many nerve racking hours, the processions of mourners slowed to a trickle. The last such was Susan Bones accompanied by who he assumed was her aunt, Amelia Bones and the new minister was flanked by an auror contingent.

He watched Susan approach with mixed emotions of intense anger and pain. Although what he'd done was by no means attributed to her, her words to him still ached to the bone.

"_Then what good are you?"_

He could still hear that condemnation echoing through his conscious mind and new it would haunt his dreams for years to come.

That is if he had years?

Susan placed a single, perfect white rose next to his picture before she broke down in tears of misery begging forgiveness that he wished he could give.

Croaker could tell by the way that his young charge's body trembled that he was crying himself and would soon lose his flagging composure altogether.

This was a harsh thing at best, but it was necessary if for no other reason than to reassure the boy that although things had been very dark, there were still those who had cared, deeply cared for him.

He sighed regretfully, noticing the way the boy's hooded visage tracked Susan Bones' departure, realizing he was drawn to the girl on some level but was now wholly incapable of pursuing those feelings.

Voldemort had much to atone for.


	3. Chapter 3: The fortunes of war

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N: thank you to the many fans who have written reviews and private messages. I am very grateful for both the negative as well as the positive reviews. Understand that I cannot hope to answer them all, but I do try.

**Chapter Three: The fortunes of war**

The rain soaking his cloak only added to the desolation of his mood. How long he stood there he hadn't known and was beginning not to care.

_Why should he have a second chance when she deserved one so much more?_

These and so many other self doubts warred through his conscious mind as he started at the lifeless stone that marked the passing of yet another gentle soul.

When the Unspeakables had entered the war, things had changed. Voldemort and his minions had learned they were at war and they'd learned that lesson the hard way as the Unspeakables had reaped unholy vengeance upon them.

_Too little... Despite everything they'd accomplished it was still too little. _He thought despondently as he looked down upon the white roses he'd left upon the freshly turned grave.

Raven, Dozer and even Dragon had tried to draw him away from his dark mourning, but in the end they decided to let him be, opting to remain near by offering silent comfort as one of their own was in pain.

They would wait however long he needed and he was eternally grateful for it.

Less than twenty four hours ago the call had come in from an auror squad besieged by Death Eaters that had assaulted the Lovegood home in angry retaliation over recent articles defaming their Dark Lord as the Half Blood that he truly was.

An elite group of six Unspeakables arrived outside Death Eater anti-apparation ward a safe distance from the chaos that gripped the Lovegood home. Several aurors lay dead in their own blood or with unseeing eyes- the victims of killing curses. None of the many bodies, however, wore the black of Death Eater robes; a fact which, while not unexpected, was about to rapidly change.

What few aurors, if any, that remained were firing stunners and cutting curses from the waning safety of the Lovegood home's windows.

With a nod from Griffon, Raven transformed into his animagus and took to the air on_ raven_ wings to reconnaissance the area.

The Death Eaters were dug in along the wall of the garden, behind trees in the front lawn and were hitting the back of the home with _flame_ and _reductor_ curses that would eventually shatter the wards and bring the entire structure down, killing everyone left inside. Some two hundred meters out there was a group of four Death Eater's,( each a point of the compass), that was maintaining an anti-apparation ward over the entire property, keeping their intended victims hostage.

Griffon smiled at that last intel. The Death Eater's were about to lose four of their number.

He made a slashing motion across his throat to Stalker and the Unspeakable transformed into his animagus, that of a panther.

The black cat growled low in its throat and slunk away into the encroaching sunset.

That done, Griffon used hand singles to send Raven, Dozer and Chameleon to take out the Death Eater's that were trying to bring down the shuddering home.

Wraith was about to protest his selection until he caught the gleam in his team leader's eye.

He and Griffon would wait until the Death Eater's were distracted and then they would cull the opposition in the front yard and along the south wall of the garden respectively.

They hadn't hardly taken up their positions of assault when a first strangled cry of:

"Oh God Nooooo...!" came from the west edge of the property. It was short lived, horror filled and very distracting as Stalker claimed first blood.

Wraith went into motion, having aligned himself to the right of a Death Eater using the tree line for cover. He hit the unsuspecting Death with a exploding hex that was so over powered that it not only blew the man to bits, but knocked the tree over,( that he was behind), crushing another of his victim's companions beneath several enormous tree limbs.

The poor sod's arms flailed uselessly in their death throes, a wet gurging moan later and all was calm once more.

Wraith transformed into his animagus and launched himself into the air. He took grim satisfaction as his avian eyes watched a row of Death Eater's fall beneath his team leader's high powered cutting curse. The fools had lined themselves up like dominos along the wall, just begging someone to come and do what Griffon had done. His spell severed through three torsos before eviscerating a fourth who was currently mewling in his own guts, begging for _mercy_.

_A Death Eater begging for mercy?_ He considered the irony... _pathetic. _

Wraith landed on a branch about fifteen feet above a Death Eater that was rocketing _suffocating_ curses into the Lovegood's broken windows. He was obviously trying to remove the oxygen from within the home as his comrades tried to set the house alight so that at least the smoke from their endeavors could make short work of their victims.

Wraith took careful aim and shite on the Death Eater beneath him.

"What the f... Urgg..!" The man half shrieked in disbelief before gagging as he clawed off his filth laden cloak and mask and turned his wand upward.

Wraith had already transferred to human, letting gravity do its work as his near eighty kilo frame drove into the man, crumpling him like a used soda cane beneath him.

**Crack**

He was rewarded with the sound of the man's shoulders breaking beneath the impact of his boots followed by a scream of horror as the man's spine snapped.

Wraith rolled off the man, using up his momentum by somersaulting across the leafy floor until coming upright after several rotations... right into the startled face of an obviously female Death Eater, (given the curves beneath her black robes).

"Wha..?!" The women barely got out before Wraith's momentum filled fist broke through her mask and fractured the nose and jaw beneath.

Teeth flew, blood sprayed and grimly Wraith mused that if the woman couldn't silent cast than she'd never cast another spell again,.. not that she was going to survive, of course.

"Urk...Gah...!" The woman struggled to clear her broken mouth of blood so she could at least scream out her pain and fear.

A booted foot stamped down without _mercy_, fracturing her throat . He was rewarded with a high pitched keening wail before her throat and lungs filled and she drowned in her own blood.

Who she was, or had been, he neither knew nor cared. She was an enemy and now she was not. That was all that mattered just now.

He returned to the broken Death Eater beneath the tree. The man was mewling pitifully that... "Oh God,... Oh God...My legs...I can't feel my legs ...where are my hands...?"

Wraith smiled a cold smile that he wished the Death Eater could see as it would give his already terror filled mind something to think about in the short time he had left.

He extracted a device from within his battle robes and bent over the wounded man asking cunningly, "What can I do?"

"M-M-My watch...port key...p-please ...help...?" the man gasped, his lungs were failing.

Wraith nodded appreciatively answering... "You'll be more help than you can imagine."

With that, he activated the explosive device he held and tucked it into the man's robes.

"Tell the Dark Tosser I said- Good bye." he instructed before activating the man's escape port key.

"Wha...Noooo!"

The man screamed in alarm before he disappeared in a "pop" of displaced air.

He didn't really figure he'd net Voldemort himself with his little ploy, but that much plastic explosive was bound to cause someone some trouble.

The muggles of MI-6 were nothing if not an accommodating lot. They'd provided the Unspeakables with all manner of assistance including munitions.

A tall Death Eater backed out of some covering brush not ten meters ahead and to his left.

"Freeze!" he barked in half command/ half spell casting. The man went ridged, hesitating for a split second which was just enough time for Wraith's over powered spell to hit dead center and freeze the man solid like a statue. He walked up casually to his snowman and took amused note that the man's eyes, beneath his mask, still swiveled to and fro in pleading panic.

Wraith smirked and made to disarm his captive. "I'll take that." he demanded, pulling back with a hard jerk on the man's wand. A large cracking sound heralded the man's arm snapping off cleanly from his body along with the wand.

"Er,.. sorry about that." he apologized sheepishly, feeling anything but. He almost laughed at the way the man's eyes bugged as they shifted back and forth between the frozen arm Wraith held and the stump where it came off.

The man's body started to pitch toward his now heavy side, forcing Wraith to grab up the man's stump and pull him back level.

"Hmm, doesn't look very balanced...? I know...!" he chortled getting an idea.

Wraith proceeded to snap off the man's other arm and stepped back admiring his work. After a few moments he announced with a distinct note of satisfaction that: "There, that's better. All nice and balanced. I wouldn't have wanted you to tip over and risk losing another part or Merlin forbid, shattering all together?"

Enjoying the way the man's eyes seem to be silently screaming from within his frozen face he snorted... "No need to thank me. I'm sure you'd do the same for me given half a chance."

Finished, he conjured a top hat, that he plopped on the Death Eater's pointed hood, anda muggle broom stick that he propped against one frozen stump. "See ya around, Frosty."

Another scream to the east that was cut off by a despairing gurgle told him that Stalker was half way through his task, which meant he better get a move on if he didn't want to spend the whole month training instead of learning hands on in the field.

He preferred hands on rather than another month under Quinlan Baines' tutlege. He shuddered involuntarily at that deciding he'd rather focus on the battle at hand.

He flowed forward, apprarating short distances as he ran. The wards were still up but they did little more than pull at him as his magical signature was too strong for the weakened wards to negate at this point.

He hit a Death Eater, that was just taking aim at the house, with such momentum enhanced force that his elbow to the man's ear broke his skull. The man's killing curse went wide of its mark and was sent flying toward the garden, narrowly missing Griffon as he's just dispatched another Death Eater.

Griffon's wand and glare turned his way. The wand halted on recognition, but the glare intensified in an unspoken, "Just what the hell was that?"

Wraith shrugged helplessly, knowing he was going to pay for that later. He didn't have long to worry over this as the brown light of a bone shattering curse whizzed by his face. He threw himself horizontally through the air, twisting and firing several exploding hexes before he hit the ground and fired several more before rolling back up to his feet.

A grunt of pain and some nearby bushes were sprayed with blood and gore as the Death Eater that had gotten the jump on him was blown to little more than bone and gristle.

A female scream from the house caught his attention as he turned quickly back toward the garden. Griffon was dueling another Death Eater and winning soundly by the condition of the man's blood stained Death Eater robes. Griffon tilted his head meaningfully toward the house and Wraith transformed to his animagus and launched himself toward an upstairs window, dodging a few scattered curses as his wings beat furiously forward, propelling himself through the yard like a feathered rocket .

He flew right through a window spraying glass as he transformed from a tawny owl back to human in the blink of an eye.

He ignored his cut arms and face. Glass crunched beneath his boots as he ran in the direction of the screams that were becoming more shrill by the second.

He hit the landing of the stairs, ignoring the bodies of another auror and that of who he distantly realized was probably Zeno Lovegood.

He turned toward the dining room where another auror was in the process of raping Luna Lovegood on the family dining table.

Her screams were little more than gurgles of pain and denial as the man tore into her broken body. Her eyes were vacant and glassy and blood dribbled from her nose and ears, evidence of the suffering she'd endured from repeated _crucios._

The room superheated as Wraith kicked the back of man's legs out from under him and he hit the floor with a cry of surprise.

The man's swollen member fell into view and Wraith seized the opportunity by stamping his booted heel down with all his might.

He would never rape again, not that he should live so long.

The man's hands shot between his legs, to clutch at what was, as he screamed a high shrill scream of horror filled agony.

With practiced efficiency, Wraith set about permanently maiming the subversive Death Eater. He broke the man's arms and legs, pulverizing his hands so that he'd never cast another spell and finally; he broke his jaw in after thought as he found the man's crying and begging highly offensive.

He ripped open the man's robes and carved "rapist" on the man's chest. He then tore off his left sleeve where he found the dark mark pulsing obscenely on the man's forearm. Pulling a tactical knife from within one of his battle robe's many pockets, he carved off the offensive brand and stuck itin place beneath his own carved "rapist" before activating his escape port key.

He took dark satisfaction in the thought that: _No doubt his fellows would get his message and be that much more merciful to the now, useless, wizard he sent back to their compassionate ministrations._

His assault on the auror/Death Eater had taken little more than the space of moments, but even that was more than Luna's labored breathing could spare.

Another wand shot into his left hand as he cast numbing charms with one hand whilst casting every healing charm he could think of with the other, stopping only when the girl's cooling hand pulled his wand hand downward.

Vacant, glassy, pain filled eyes cleared in recognition as she rasped... "I-It's alright...H-Harry.

Wands fell from hands as he hurriedly pulled of his masking cowl off and cautiously grabbed Luna's shoulders...

"Y-You know it's me..?" he gasped in wonder despite the circumstances.

"O-Of course I do...silly." Luna gasped incredulously through her pain. "A-Anything.. you'd ..like me to t-tell... your m-mother...?" Luna wheezed out as the light began to fade from her large blue eyes.

That last sent reality crashing back down in how precarious her condition was.

"J-Just send her my lov...Luna?...Luna?!" he shook the broken girl's arms trying to get a response as her eyes filmed over and a last rattle of breath left her chest.

"No,...oh nooo...!" he wailed miserably as he pulled the broken girl into his arms, clutching to her desperately with one arm as he gentled a hand over her flowing blonde hair. Tears fell as they'd never fallen before in a life that should have been used to them.

He'd never allowed himself to cry, not even when Sirius had died.

It could have been a minute or even hours later, but that was how his fellows found him.

* * *

**Present...**

He'd watched almost dispassionately as Hermione and Ron had clung to each other in their grief during Luna's funeral.

In silent vigil he watched as Ginny had consoled Neville by rubbing his back and planting gentle kisses to his tear stained cheeks. Vaguely he considered how that could have been him upon a time, but quickly discounted the notion as fanciful school boy day dreams.

He questioned when he'd become so jaded and just as quickly he realized the answer was from bearing witness at his own funeral, watching those that had turned on him vent their grief and remorse for their own plight.

As those that had cast him from Gryffindor turned away in shame-

Upon seeing the stricken faces of resolve from his teachers at their own regret for having failed in the protection of their charge.

He'd thought he'd shed his own humanity until holding Luna as she died. In that awful minute he'd wished he had.

He wondered if the pain would ever fade. Not just the pain of Luna's violent passing, but at the pain he'd felt in the feeling that he himself abandoned her and the unique way in which she forgave him by recognizing him for who he was:

Harry

She's known. Without even seeing his face, Luna had known who he was. She's recognized him with her heart as only Luna could.

She was with their mothers now and the world was that much a colder place for it. He was happy for her, but he was that sad for Neville.

He knew that Neville had come to cherish Luna for the unique person that she was and come to love her as Luna truly deserved to be loved.

Despite his pain, he clung to life in the form of Ginny Weasley's comforting arms.

Neville was a far stronger and more courageous a man than he would ever be. Neville chose to live whereas he'd chosen death and they, (he and death), were rapidly becoming close friends.

The memory of her funeral faded as he stared down and the grey stone that marked the passing of a life that was once vibrant and filled with all the colors of the rainbow, now marked by dispassionate grey stone.

He stared at the stone in the way he'd stared into the mirror those first of many months as he tried to see some semblance of his once self shinning through. Now, as he stared down at the grey stone that marked death he realized that the face he saw in the mirror was the same as this grey stone...a mark of death.

Had he cheated death? Tricked it? Manipulated it? Maybe he'd only tricked himself into believing he had?

The body he now wore was the cold remains of another who'd passed violently from the world. An unmarked Death Eater wannabe who'd been captured during an initiation revelry.

How does one earn Voldemort's horrific mark? The dark mark is earned by the callous raping of a muggle and then murdering that muggle and their entire family who'd been forced to watch their daughter, sister, perhaps even-mother,.. suffer beneath some raping swine.

The body he wore had done that, or at least tried to before he was apprehended. He, or it, rather... was tried and found guilty, having been sentenced to be kissed by a dementor.

The soul had been removed, but the body lived on. Having no family to claim it, the Unspeakables had claimed the body to use in their experimental spell division.

They never in their wildest imaging did they consider the use they'd ultimately have for the body.

Dragon called it providence. Others called it Fate's wish to correct a grievous wrong.

He called it purgatory.

He was entombed in the grey stone that marked the passing of a wasted life. The writing upon the grey stone that marked her passing was the same as the runes burned into his chest that anchored his soul to this plane, in this body.

Both stone and body marked the beginning and passing.

As he looked down upon Luna's gravesite; he was hopeful to one day change that grey stone to the vibrant color that had been her life. To erase the runes that marred his own flesh so that he could at last be at peace either upon the earth or in the next great adventure.

That day would wait though until he ridded the world of Voldemort.

He was an Unspeakable now. He'd earned his place among them, having completed his training ahead of schedule and above everyone's expectations, even the Dragon's.

What's more he'd earned his place among the more advanced squads, ultimately landing himself in Griffon's search and destroy group.

They were a younger squad, himself the youngest mentally of the group, but near the same in his body's age of their early twenties.

Dragon had given him his codename, or as the Unspeakable's called it: their given family name for each other:**Wraith**

Dragon still amused himself, chuckling at the irony.

Despite that, he liked the name. It was him; an avenging spirit returned from the dead.

The rain grew heavy, its distraction finally drawing him from his mourn filled preoccupation. Up until then he'd just thought the wetness on his face was his own unending tears. With a last sigh of abject regret he turned away from the grey stone and returned to his comrades who were waiting patiently in the soaking rain for him. None of them offered the slightest complaint, if anything they understood better than most what it was to fight as hard as you possibly could to win only to ultimately lose in the face of such bitter consequences.

Raven grasped his shoulder supportively. He didn't need to see his friend's eyes to know that they were filled with compassion. Dozer's arm circled round his waist pulling him into a half hug of support. Griffon stepped up and gently pulled Wraith's cowl'd head forward to plant a soft kiss on his brow.

He could see Stalker off in the distance scanning the cemetery, making sure that all was safe so that his mourning would remain unmolested. Dragon and Chameleon were at the cemetery gate conversing softly, whilst waiting their comrades and charges' return.

Dragon was right in that if he stayed the course he would find that the Unspeakables were a family in among themselves. These were good people who did what was right not only for the public's well being but for each other's. So many times he'd stared into the mirror cursing his continued existence and lamenting his lot in life. Now, as Dragon predicted, he was beginning to like the image he saw in the mirror. Not because he found it handsome, but because he was beginning to like what lie beneath the blue eyes and sandy brown hair.

The runes on his chest still gave him some pain, but if anything he was beginning to see this as a reminder of what he'd lost when he died and what he gained when he was reborn. Unlike his former scar that everyone both judged and condemned him for, his rune scars were his alone to remind him of the day his world changed and he became the boy who lived, then died, then lived again. Aptly,.. these scars were over his heart.

His heart... yes, somewhere along the way he began to think of it as just that: his heart.

* * *

Dragon and Chameleon conversed lowly about their youngest member as they waited for him to make his peace with the passing of another friend.

Dragon had hoped to recruit Luna and her unique talents upon graduating from Hogwarts, but she had already had her heart set on joining her eccentric father in his journalistic endeavors to enlighten the world on all things strange and mysterious.

That's, perhaps, a polite view of how most of the general public view the "Quibbler". Those in the know who could read between the lines appreciated the man for his subtle brilliance. Lovegood and his daughter readily tweaked the Ministry's collective noses and defamed Voldemort and his minions with a grace and style that never drew more than passing attention to themselves as potential rivals to their terrorist agenda.

Outing the villain as the half blood that he was had finally drawn that unwanted attention and sealed their doom.

Now more than ever he appreciated the cryptic message the girl had previously requested mark her tombstone should the worst occur.

They were the same and final words she had uttered when he'd approached her about joining the Unspeakables after her graduation.

He offered her the moon,.. briefly he paused to snort at the irony of offering the moon to someone aptly named: Luna.

"I just couldn't leave, Daddy." she retorted simply, brushing aside his generous offers without a moment's pause.

"We're going on safari in July, but he's starting to despair that we may never find a Crumple Horned Snorkack. He's afraid they may already be extinct. What do you think, Dragon, sir?" she enquired curiously.

"I..I'm sure I don't know, but I'd like to think they still exist. Too many things are already extinct and more seem to pass each day.

Luna nodded thoughtfully at that but her large eyes held a knowing glint as she returned airily. "Not so many things as people think. There are many things and many people that yet survive despite what most people may think to be true. Daddy says that the muggle singer Elvis Presley is alive and well in Greenland, though he doesn't like the cold much." Luna shrugged indifferently at that.

"Who knows,..maybe even Harry Potter is still alive and out there somewhere. Daddy always says that; "Death shall have no dominion over the stout hearted"." Luna shrugged again adding pointedly...

"I can't think of anyone more courageous at heart than, Harry Potter ,... can you?" with that she skipped off happily, leaving him completely flustered .

_She knew. She knew then and she knew now. What's more it was important to her that she knew, whether or not anyone else did was a matter of indifference. Strike that... it mattered to her that at least one other knew and that she was thinking of him even at death and forever after...Harry._

Thus the inscription of her tombstone:

**Death shall have no dominion over the stout hearted.**

She was telling him she knew and the rest of the world along with him in that subtle Lovegood way of revealing the truth without revealing a thing to the casual observer.

"Do you think anyone picked up on the girl's message?" Chameleon asked worriedly, drawing his wondering mind back from the origins of what they were currently discussing.

Dragon chuckled softly, not wishing to intrude on the boy's mourning or seem disrespectful to the rest of the dead bearing silent vigil along with the boy.

"I doubt it. Even if they did get the message they couldn't put the pieces together without knowing the groundwork of our previous conversation. The girl was a seer of no little potential. She knew I'd still remember and that I'd be able to impart to him the origins of her message.

The girl was kindness incarnate. Even in death she's telling him he matters and that she cares."

Chameleon nodded regretfully at that. "Do you think he gets that?" he nodded his chin in Wraith's direction.

"I think so yes,... that's why he's having so much more trouble letting go just now. He's mourning yes, but he's missing them to."

He didn't bother to relate just who, "them" was as they both knew it was Harry's friends. The famous "Ministry Six".

With another sigh, he struck that last thought. _There were only __**Five**__ now._

_And children shall know the way..._ Mere children had known what was right and just, making a stand against evil while the rest of them had hid in shame.

Chameleon nudged his shoulder supportively against his commander. He knew where the man's thoughts had drifted. It was something they discussed many times since the day that Harry Potter and his friends had brought the war into public view and rubbed said public's face in it.

Dragon's handkerchief stole into his hood and wiped discretely at his eyes. He returned the article to the folds of his robe and nodded his thanks to his young friend for his support.

He didn't know what he would do without his Unspeakables. It was a sentiment they returned many times over for their leader.

"Such a waste." he commented, nodding his chin toward the distant grave.

"Death always is." Chameleon agreed.

"Not for that lot." Dragon chuckled darkly; his head nodding toward the unmarked section where their world deposited those they were ashamed of, such as Death Eaters. They already had a special place picked out for Voldemort when his time finally, blessedly came. It was a lovely spot beneath a large oak tree. One that the Unspeakables were going to hang a large bird feeder in.. right over the spot of his snakiness' grave.

The little feathered dears could eat their fill and show their appreciation by paying special tribute to Voldemort as they relieved themselves.

"That lot got better than they deserve." Chameleon agreed. "We added to their numbers pretty good, the other day. Wraith planted a half dozen of the bastards himself. "

"He's an Unspeakable." Dragon acknowledged simply, expecting no less than excellence from one of their own.

"That he is." Chameleon agreed with no little pride in his tone. Both had a direct hand in Wraith's training and both were extremely proud to be able to lay claim to such.

Chameleon's gaze turned to the approaching winter sky on the horizon.

"Christmas isn't very far off." He reminded his friend and commander pointedly.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Maybe that'll be a good time to go for Hufflepuff's cup? It could provide a good distraction for him?" he suggested.

"He'll still slip away." Chameleon cautioned. "As close as he's grown to some of us it just never seems to fill the void." his voice held a note of frustration.

Dragon sighed at that. "He's afraid to let us in completely. Can't say as I blame him, really. He just needs time and patience. You've all been good for him." he expressed gratefully.

"He's been good for us." Chameleon returned though his voice held a sigh of discontent. "He'll probably still make his damned vigil at Christmas."

"Such language and over Christmas yet?" his commander scolded.

Chameleon shrugged helplessly. "You know what I mean...It gets worse every year. Why does he torment himself so?"

"The same reason we all do the things we do.. he cares. He's one of those rare individuals that once he gives his heart its forever. We don't choose our blood family, which reminds me, make sure the boys bring a little Yule tide cheer over to those lovely Dursleys."

Chameleon snorted at that. "We'll draw lots, same as always, to see who gets the pleasure this year."

Dragon smiled the first true smile since he got up this morning. The boy had spent the better part of his first year in therapy. When he wasn't training he was working through his many issues. Despite everything on the boy's shoulders some of the worst of it was dealing with his many insecurities and self image issues courtesy of the Dursley's loving care. It wasn't enough that he had to deal with all the guilt of having attempted suicide and leaving his friends to think he'd succeeded, or a madman's desire to kill him through no fault of his having been born prophesy's bitch, culminating with being forced to survive in an alien body,.. no not enough; he had to deal with resolving issues from years of abuse and neglect.

He'd come a long way in two years and they were all so very proud of him. They were both proud and protective.

Maybe Harry had taken the high road and learned to cope with and move on, but the Unspeakables had their own issues to resolve. In that vein; the Dursleys were reminded every Christmas and July thirty-first the folly of having harmed one of their own.

**Pain** was more easily dealt with when one had someone to share it with.

"Getting back to our original topic of conversation,.." Dragon reoriented. "He can't move on or won't move on until he's sure they have. Yes, he beats himself up, but he reassures himself too. He just needs to know they're alright, so he checks in at times when he feels the most drawn to them and can't fight the urge anymore."

Chameleon sighed dolefully at that. "I'm not sure that any of them ever will be able to move on, especially now. Couldn't we...?"

"No." Dragon cut him off but not harshly so. "Not as long as Voldemort's in the picture. I won't serve him up like that manipulating old swine Dumbledore did; the supposed leader of the light- Bah!"

Dragon pulled a face and spat on the ground to show his contempt for the man. "He broke the boy and then had the audacity to come begging we fix him, not so much for the boy's sake but more to appease his own guilty conscious. If there's any justice in the world; he'll die alone and forgotten lying in his own piss!"

"Amen to that." Chameleon added and meaning it.

After a lengthy pause in which they both sighed in relief when Wraith finally stepped away from the girl's grave and allowed his friends to comfort him, Dragon vowed.

"We're his family now and we always will be, but someday, when this is all over, I mean to see that he gets the kind of life he deserves not one that's forced upon him, but one that he chooses and truly wants."

Chameleon nodded, adding... "Amen to that."

* * *

Sweat ran in rivulets down from his sodden hair. His frame glowed with the effects of his relentless determination. Now there was only the bar.

Down...Up...Down...Up...Take a breath...Blow it out...Take a breath...Blow it out...

Everyday began the same. At first he'd embraced it, then as muscles protested and his body gave way to exhaustion and pain... he began to protest his lot. Protests gave way to despair, but still his task masters persisted. Never once did they give in to his pleas, Never once did they desist in their expectations.

Never once did they falter in demanding...more!

Down...Up...Down... How man chin ups he'd already done he couldn't guess. He never even tried to keep count anymore, he'd learned his lesson at that.

Ten became twenty, then thirty, fifty.. hundred. He'd grunted out the reps only to have his drill instructors throw out random numbers. When he lost count as he usually did.. They made him start over.

Now, they just had him do chin ups , sit ups, pushups, jogging ,.. what have you; until he could do no more.

Then they would demand even more.

Down...Up...Down...Up... His arms were trembling violently with the strain, his breathing was labored, his face ruddy and over heating.

Finally his arms gave out and he dropped down to his feet, bent over and panting his exhaustion.

Swack!

"Merlin's arse!" he screeched twisting his body away too late from the bamboo switch that hit him across the back of his legs; not hard enough to break the skin , but hard enough to leave a painful welt in reminder.

"Get your arse back up on that bar, Potter." His DI snapped, pointing the bamboo switch toward the bar he'd just fallen from.

"The name's Jenson." He spat in reminder of his new alias, that of: Drew Jenson. He'd asked Dragon why they'd established that particular name as his new identity? He'd recieved the answer.. a mere shrug of the shoulders in indifference.

Swack!

"Owe, damn it all!" Harry shrieked, his hand covering his back side protectively as he shied away from the man.

Quinlan Baines was their fitness instructor. He did not go by a code name and didn't need one. They had collectively learned to fear the name he was born with.

Just what the man's expectations were one couldn't say as no one of them had ever satisfied the man. Which was as it should be, but that damn stick of his was another matter?

Everyone and their dog had had a go at breaking that damn stick, but none had done so successfully thus far.

Baines claimed the stick was but a learning tool to help push the lesson in. One couldn't argue with that as they had their bruises to remember the lesson by for days after.

Two years, three months and seventeen days he'd put up with Baines and that damnable teaching aide.

"I said move it, Potter!" the man roared, his bamboo rod came sizzling through the air aimed for his left shoulder this time.

With a predatory growl of outrage Harry caught the switch in the air with his left arm and pivoted his right side toward the rod. He put all of his weight and momentum behind his left forearm as it slammed into the rod snapping it cleanly in two. His momentum carried through as he twisted and brought his left hand around,(still holding the other half of the rod), catching his instructor across the left arm where he stood staring in disbelief at the broken rod still held in his hand.

SWACK!

"Jesus Christ almighty!" Baines swore.

"Hurts doesn't it?" Harry goaded, taking grim satisfaction in the man's look of pain and outrage.

Baines grimace dissolved into a smile as he rubbed fleetingly at his smarting arm. "Aye, that it does." he agreed.

Oddly the rest of fellow teammates, who had watched the spectacle in anticipation, clapped and cheered appreciatively.

He'd passed another rite of passage that day; one that few ever did. He'd earned his DI's respect and that was something that precious few others could claim.

"Bout time you grew a pair." Baines chortled appreciatively before conjuring himself another, (thicker), bamboo rod.

He brandished the rod threateningly toward the proud appearing young man. "Now get your arse up on that bar... Jenson."


	4. Chapter 4: The bodyguard

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N: Thank you so much for the many reviews and personal messages. The story is going to be picking up speed, but don't worry as I'll be filling in the blanks as we go.

**Chapter Four: The bodyguard**

"Help...Oh, please someone... we need help!" a desperate voice cried out from the emergency floo.

"Unspeakables here, please state your name and nature of your emergency?" a cool professional tone came back over the floo.

She could barely hear the reply to her cry for help over the battle raging around her. The manor's wards were completely down and the enemy's wards had snapped into place almost simultaneously, preventing any escape by apparition or floo. The only means to call for help was the heavily warded interior floo that was hidden within her Aunt's private study and even that was crackling terribly and would undoubtedly shut down any moment.

She had to get her message out, hers and her Aunt's lives depended on it. She stifled down the sob of panic when her mind thought back to her aunt falling under a heavy barrage of wand fire as she'd bolted into the meager protection of this room. Aunt Amelia could be dead already for all she knew.

They'd practiced such an emergency many times and their immediate priority was to escape. As currently no means of escape was possible, her job was to call for help. Whether or not said help would arrive too late was almost a certainty when he... when **it **stepped through the shattered door of their once pristine home, with a malevolent grin of anticipation on it's less than human face.

Now the manse was in ruin as plaster rained down and wood splintered and was blasted away from furniture and wood paneling during their running battle toward their last point of refuge; Minister Bones' private study.

Her aunt and the last two of their auror security had been in a battle for their very lives trying to buy her the time to summon help. Her aunt had fallen with a scream of pain just as Susan Bones had made it to her study door. The last of their security detail, that of retired Master Auror Moody and a green first year auror had moved to flank the minister, dropping her assailant beneath a hail of blasting curses that undoubtedly dispatched the Death Eater as it had made short work of the wall directly behind him.

Their perimeter security detail was nonexistent and undoubtedly dead or fled as Death Eaters had poured onto their estate's grounds once the wards fell. Moody had perimeter alarms in place and once the wards were breeched he'd immediately floo'd for back up from the MLES.

What reinforcements that came were the said remains of the return fire outside as fewer and fewer curses rumbled ominously, mixed in with an occasional scream that was ultimately cut short, it's owners life along with it.

Moody had all but flung her toward the floo, barking for her to summon the Unspeakables in between snarling lethal hexes back at the opposition. The grizzled auror was the only reason that she and her aunt were still alive thus far; at least she hoped her aunt was still alive.

"Please,..Please help!" she cried desperately into the crackling green flames as they struggled to hold open the connection. "W-We're under attack..Bones' Mansion..my aunt..er, Minister Bones is hurt ..V-Voldemort is here!" she shrieked that last into the floo, somewhat shocked she was able to get the dark lord's name out. She like everyone else had been afraid to speak the name. She, like a few others that had continued on with the DA after Harry Potter's death, had decided they would face their fears, starting with calling Voldemort by his title. It became sort of a remembrance of Harry and the rare courage that he was renowned for.

A few believed that Harry Potter had died because he was ultimately afraid of having to face the Dark Lord, at least that was the propaganda Voldemort and his lackeys spewed at every opportunity. Many believed that Harry had died heart sick and alone; having finally lost even more than his iron constitution could bear.

Very few knew the whole story and those that did guarded a secret that was greater than the prophesy that Voldemort once coveted.

"Stay calm Miss, we have a team in route to your location."

"A team?!" Susan shrieked incredulously in alarm. "Send everyone. Didn't you hear me? Voldemort is here! My aunt needs medical help! We won't last another five seconds if...?"

Susan desperate retort cut off as an enormous explosion outside rocked the entire foundation of the mansion beneath her feet. Despite the screams and wails of misery echoing outside, the calm voice over the floo not only reassured, but kept her focused so that she could provide as much information as possible to aid her rescuers.

"What is your present location please, Miss?"

After Susan relayed her location the voice continued calmly. "Stay where you are, Miss. One of our best teams is on sight and will make its way to your location. They'll be there in moments. What is your Aunt's present condition?"

"I..I d-don't know..?" Susan whined, despising the sound of her own voice as she cowered in fear at the continuing explosions that rocked the mansion. Her panic went into override when she heard the unmistakable grunt of pain from Moody followed by the sound of a body crashing to the floor outside.

A high pitched cruel laugh echoed down the hall outside.

"Omigod, omigod..he's coming!" Susan gasped desperately.

Before the calming voice could even attempt to reassure her with false platitudes that "everything would be alright", that same cold laugh broke off in a strangled cry of alarm.

Shouts of both warning and command filled the mansion as it shuddered under an epic barrage of all manner of lethal curses and hexes.

Gathering the shreds of her failed courage, Susan lifted herself away from the floo and cautiously made her way to the door, daring to chance a look outside.

She's barely cracked open a door when a hand grasped her own and pulled her through the doorway.

A scream of terror died in her throat as a gloved hand clamped down over her mouth and the shrouded man identified himself as an Unspeakable. Two more of his fellows were hurriedly casting all manner of healing charms over her aunt and an unconscious, Moody. The other was beyond saving. The young auror, all that remained of their security detail, lie nearby. His body was half covering her wounded aunt protectively. His young eyes stared unseeing upward having witnessed his first and last battle.

She couldn't know it then, but he'd distinguished himself saving her aunt from death. He could do no more.

He'd done more than enough.

Once Susan's tear stained face relaxed enough to nod that she wouldn't scream out their present location, the hand came away and before she could even blurt her first of many questions, the man activated a communication rune on his lapel.

"Cam, this Griffon- over."

"Chameleon here, Griffon- go ahead."

"We've got survivors. Minister needs immediate evac. What's the status on the wards-over"

The background hissed and crackled for a moment and Susan thought she could distinctly hear the sound of hexes sizzling through the air followed by a sworn epitaph that would normally make her blush to her roots.

"Ten minutes, Griffon, maybe more-over."

_Ten minutes, but how did they get her so fast?_ Susan wondered briefly, considering how large their family's estate is and that there _would be_ rescuers would have had to leg the vast distance from beyond the enemy's wards.

The man with "Griffon" embroidered over his right chest looked to his comrade that was still working on her aunt's many wounds.

The man shook his head in the negative and Susan let out a whimper of dread understanding.

Griffon swore underneath his breath at his fellow's response.

"Damn it, Cam,.. we need a way out of here? The minister hasn't got ten damn minutes!"

Chameleon barked out a change in orders at that, coming back over the link to...

"Evac toward south stair. Repeat south stair... Stalker is clearing out unfriendlies in area. Exit kitchen foyer-over".

Griffon nodded. "Copy that." A quick nod to Dozer and Raven and they levitated their injured ahead as they made toward the other end of the hall, with Susan on his non-wand side.

"I say run-run. I say drop-drop, got it?" he instructed her calmly as he moved his followed close behind his fellows and their charges.

Susan nodded, not trusting her voice as her entire world was focused on her aunt and the stairway ahead that beckoned as an oasis.

The floor beneath their hurried footsteps groaned and another muffled scream of pain was cut short from the battle raging on the floor below.

Griffon tapped his lapel again.

"Cam, what's Wraith's status-over?" he asked worriedly, realizing Wraith had not been mentioned in their previous exchange.

A crackle of static came back before,.. "Merlin's arse, scratch another Death Beater!" came back a half chortle of appreciative awe in response to the shortened scream they'd just heard.

"The kid's really taking it to em, Griff." Chameleon explained. "Wand fire forced his seeking shelter in Dining room. Voldie- turd was last spotted in that vicinity. Am moving to intercept..."

Wand fire shook the floor beneath their feet, cutting off the rest of Chameleon's reply.

"Check that... Wraith just got acquainted with 'he who hyphenates'. It looks like their squaring off in there."

Susan gasped at that. She couldn't fathom that any one single man would even consider taking on Voldemort. Not even Harry Potter would go looking for that kind of trouble if he could help it.

Not twenty minutes earlier Griffon's team received a hurried briefing from Dragon as they headed at a trot toward a Dept. Of Mysteries secure apparition port.

Though some of his group was visibly relieved, others did not share their view when they were ordered, in no uncertain terms, to not engage Voldemort under any circumstances unless they were afforded no other options.

Wraith specifically had been ordered point blank by Dragon, himself.

Thinking back, Griffon realized that Wraith had never acknowledged said order as they'd not had time before they'd apparated away.

Griffon growled low in his throat as his group descended the back stair. "Negative, he is not to engage. I repeat.. Do-Not-Engage-Big-Bad-1-copy?"

Crackle... "Say again...you're.. breaking..." Crackle... Empty static filled the communication line.

"Damn-it, Cam you get your arses out of there-Now!" Griffon shouted over his com link, not buying the lost signal dodge for a second.

"Awe,.. couldn't we..?

URGGG!... a background scream came over the link, drowning out Chameloeon's update for a second.

When he came back on his voice was panicked. "The kid's hit, he's down!"

The two Unspeakable levitating Moody and Amelia turned expectantly toward Griffon as they hit the landing.

"Minister and non combatants take priority, boys." he reminded them.

Both hoods nodded and the group hurried toward the kitchen down the hall and to the left rear of the mansion.

They hadn't made ten feet when the brown light of a bone breaking hex ripped through the intersection ahead and blew out a large section of the wood paneling.

Griffon hurriedly tapped his com link. "Check fire- Check fire at south hall intersection.. friendlies in vicinity-Over."

"Roger that Griffon, but B-B-1 and Wraith are heavily engaged... wait for my signal-Over!"

"I thought Wraith was down, say again-over?"

Crackle...Crackle... static filled the com link.

The hallway shook again as something or someone just crashed into the other side of the wall they were behind. Griffon waited with waning patience for an update. The rest of his men were fingering their wands in anticipation, their hood fixed on the intersection ahead and the battle therein.

... "He popped up not a second after I reported him down- Griff. He's bloodied, but so it Voldie-turd. The kid's tough as hell. I tried to relay evac order, but it's a firestorm in there. An A-K almost took my head off last time I tried to call out to Wraith to retreat. All I'm able to do is sneak a peek now and again. I can't even risk firing a curse or two in support without hitting the kid by accident. Can't see he's got any window of escape at this point-Griff. Wanker-mort is throwing around A-K's like they're free. He'll kill Wraith the moment he tries to break off and retreat. They're in it for the duration unless we can divert B-B-1's attention long enough for Wraith to get clear. Stalker reports south entry secure for evac and awaiting your arrival. Advise –Over?"

Griffon growled low in his throat in frustration. The whole delay, while only a minute or so in duration thus far, was still more than Minister Bones could afford in her present condition.

"How'd you like the taste of that you red-eyed prick?" Wraith bellowed from around the corner ahead.

Susan Bones gasped in amazement at the sheer fact that someone was actually fighting such a monster let alone doing well enough to antagonize him in the midst of a pitched battle.

Dozer snorted at that. Griffon too smiled in spite of himself, not that anyone else could see under the obfuscate charm over his hooded cloak.

.. "Griff! I've got a shot at B-B-1, advise?" Chameleon nearly screamed out eagerly over the com link.

"Put him down, but not out. Repeat... DO-NOT-KILL!-Understood?"

"Understood-_Reducto!_" Chameleon's voice shouted out the curse a split second after confirming Griffon's order.

"Arggg!" a scream ripped from a throat unused to suffering pain instead of causing it.

"Woo-Hoo! That was a good one, Cam!" Wraith's voice rang out in delight. "Voldie's a one legged wonder now. No more dancing for you, ya great wanker."

Boom! Bang! Crack!

"Come on- Hop Froggie-Hop!" Wraith's voice cackled manically over the din of repeated curses blasting away the walls and flooring.

"He's throwing everything, but the kitchen sink at He-Who Leans, Griff!" Cam shouted out gleefully over the com link.

KWANG!

"Check that.. he just banished the sink into the Red-Eyed-One-Hop-Wonder."

Dozer, Raven and even, Griffon lost his composure and snorted in amusement to Chameleon's commentary.

A second later, Griffon growled out the order to move and the group trotted forward quickly, not wanting to lose the advantage of the distraction Wraith was affording them.

POP

A loud sound of displaced air sounded out just as they'd made it past the intersection, but not before the group gapped in wonder at a heavily wounded and hoping for his life Voldemort. His red eyes unmistakably pain filled and panicking.

"Awe now that's a damn shame..." Chameleon chortled over the com, not that they need to use it as the house had grown eerily quiet.

"The Dark Whiner just apparated away.. the great coward. Ward's appear to be down-Griff."

"Get Wraith's arse out of there and rendezvous Medical Bay Two- Now."

"Roger that-over and out."

Susan couldn't know for sure but, by the piping at the new Unspeakable's collar and the way the other Unspeakables snapped to attention when he arrived outside her aunt's room, this was obviously someone in command over the others.

All six of their rescuers were lined up across the hall from her aunt's room as the Dragon reamed his men a new one. One in particular was receiving more than his fair share of his commander's wrath: Wraith.

She found it startlingly odd that they were receiving a dressing down rather than commendations. After all, they did successfully rescue her and her aunt along with Master Auror Moody.

That and eliminated many Death Eaters and seriously wounded the dark lord in the process.

She still marveled that one of their number had actually dueled the fiend. Not to mention the absolute shock in that he'd distinguished himself so well.

What she didn't understand was their having been ordered not to eliminate Voldemort when they'd seemingly had the opportunity?

At length she decided that that was probably the reason they were being called to task by the irate commander. She wished could hear what exactly was being said, but as the commander cast silencing charms around the area she was left having to guess at their body language. All she could tell after that was that their commander was still incensed and his subordinates didn't agree with his reasoning.

"Have you lost your mind?' the Dragon raged at his young subordinate.

"I've lost everything but, sir." The young sounding man snapped back sarcastically.

"Stop dwelling on what you've lost and start focusing on what you've gained." The Dragon fired right back.

The object of his ire was about to retort when Chameleon came to his rescue. "It's not like we went looking for BB1, sir? Wraith was trapped in there with him. He didn't have any choice but to defend himself. The kid should get a commendation, if you ask me?"

His fellows mumbled their agreement with that assessment.

"Well, I didn't ask you." The dragon growled back, silencing the rest where they stood. "We don't give medals for disobeying orders, however well things may seemingly have gone because of it. You confirmed your orders to my face you confirmed acknowledgement of your orders."

"I never had the chance to confirm any such orders?" Wraith balked. It was a technicality and he knew it, never the less, he was correct in that he'd never had a chance to agree specifically to Dragon's orders before having apparated away.

Further incensed; Dragon grabbed up Wraith by his collar and pulled him close to his cowl where both could distinctly see the other's face.

"What if you had killed him, what then? What if he'd killed you? Damn it man! We're in this for the duration. If you get yourself killed, you'll take the rest of us right with you. Is that what you want?"

The dragon waited for a reply that didn't come. His men shuffled nervously as the tension in the hallway rose a hundred and fifty percent.

His patience at an end, Dragon snapped into his subordinate's face.. "Well?"

After still no immediate reply he shook Wraith's shoulders in his frustration, demanding an answer, not even registering the blank glassy expression on Drew's face.

When no further reply came he shoved away the young man with an enraged snarl. Wraith pitched back lifelessly, slumping to the floor.

His fellows startled at that and it was then that Dragon registered the wetness of his hands. He looked down to find his hands drenched with his subordinate's blood.

"Oh for the love of..." he gasped as he kneeled down and ripped his battle robes open. Wraith's chest and shoulders were covered with deep slashes and spell burns.

"He's wounded?" he nearly shouted out in worry. "Why in the hell didn't you report his being injured?" he snarled at Griffon, who had dropped to the other side and was hurriedly casting healing charms along with his commander.

"Cause you never gave me a chance." he snapped back in exasperation. "Cam's right, sir,.. he didn't go looking for a fight with Voldemort, but he sure as hell didn't walk away when the fight was brought to him,.. sir." That last came out both bitterly and sarcastically.

Dragon paused and nodded reluctantly at that. He knew he was wrong, just as they knew he was angry more out of worry for Wraith and what could have happened to him.

Voldemort'd demise was their end goal and the end was nowhere in sight just now. The bastard wasn't immortal, but neither was he wholly human and vulnerable just yet.

The hoar cruxes needed to be eliminated first. Then the Dark Lord would know the full wrath of the Unspeakables.

* * *

A black robed and exceedingly anxious Death Eater slipped into the former reception hall that now served as Voldemort's throne room. The dark lord sat on an obsidian throne that fairly reeked of malevolence. Pale hand absently stroking the head of his vile serpent, coiled alongside his throne and hissing ominously at the approaching Death Eater, further adding to the man's already heightened apprehensiveness.

As if the blood stained floors hadn't already had the man's hackles on edge. The blood was not his master's, but rather the, now deceased, Death Eater that had delivered the report of the fiasco that was the assassination attempt on Minister Bones.

Ten aurors dead to the opposition, but they'd dearly in that they'd lost some seventeen Death Eaters; three of those were inner circle members. Minister Bones, her niece and Master Auror Moody all having survived the attack. Worst of all; Voldemort , himself, was wounded in the exchange.

"Speak dog."

"The surgeon's are ready to attach your magically constructed artificial leg milord. They say time is of the essence to lessen the any further risk of nerve damage affecting mobility.

With a sigh of resignation, Voldemort struggled to pull himself from his throne, slumping back in exhaustion having failed the attempt.

Innocently enough, the Death Eater that awaited his master's pleasure offered to levitate him.

It was the last words he'd ever uttered with a sane mind as repeated Cruciatus hexes left the man a vegetable.

* * *

The next day found a healed a somewhat rested young Unspeakable pulling that most boring and undesired of duties; Guard Duty. It was his punishment and he knew it, though he wasn't so foolish as to assume this was all he had in store for his lapse in judgment by not following orders to the letter.

Thus he showed what contempt he may for what he considered an unjust punishment. He did this by leaning back against his the door jamb, of the hospital room he guarded, nonchalantly twirling his wand idly between his fingers to pass the time in a show of abject boredom and disinterest.

Not even when his own commander approached and entered the room did he show more than a passing acknowledgement. He didn't snap to attention as his fellows would; no, he stopped twirling his wand for a heartbeat, tapping it to the side of his forehead in a mock salute before resuming his previous antics.

If he heard his commander growl his displeasure, he never registered it in the least.

Dragon entered the minister's room with a grumble in the show of disrespect by his protégé. He knew better to expect otherwise, especially in view of the fact that Wraith was being unjustly punished. He knew form the reports Griffon and Chameleon had delivered that Wraith had no option other than to engage the enemy or embrace his own death.

The fact that Harry was in the right wasn't a matter of consequence, nor was how he'd represented himself; which by all accounts was nothing short of amazing.

The truth be told it was gallantry worthy of a commendation.

Instead he was on guard duty. The true reason for this was no more than Dragon trying to reel in his young charge before he took things to another level, emboldened by his initial success over the Dark Lord.

Wraith knew it too and he wasn't liking it. _Ah, impetuous youth_. Dragon mocked wistfully.

Minister Bones was pale as death and sound asleep when he entered her room, half deciding if he should further punish Harry for not bothering to check his credentials, even though both could tell the other by the way they moved and smelled, if they were honest.

After a few minutes, Amelia Bones roused, her eyes drifting open uncertainly. At first she appeared confused by her surrounding, but then a painful move brought reality crashing back as she remembered her fight for survival and subsequent wounding as a result.

Most would say she was lucky to be alive, and they would be right. Only, this luck came in the form of talented men who had fostered her continued survival.

Dragon snapped to attention at the side of the minister's bed. Amelia snorted derisively through her pain at that.

"Don't be absurd, Lewis." she chided, grateful to see him deflate to a more relaxed pose at her bedside as she continued her thought. "We're much too old of friends for such displays of formality."

"How're you feeling, Amy?" he asked worriedly, his hand gently clasping her own, mindful of her heavily bandaged wrist.

"Still able to feel anything, thanks to you." she complimented appreciatively."Pull off that silly hood so I can at least see your handsome face and thank you properly." Amelia scolded him irritably, due to her pain, as they both knew.

Dragon removed his hood. His hazel eyes connecting with Amelia's pain filled blue ones.

Softly, reverently he brought her hand to his lips. She sighed gratefully both at the contact and the memories it elicited from another time, when peace rather than war dictated their heart's actions.

_Damn Voldemort's black heart for keeping them apart_. They both thought for not the first time.

She had lost her husband in the last war, he a fiancé. They had always been the best of friends, along with Minerva McGonagal, meeting in school their first year. They were their own Gryffindor three upon a time. After time to grieve their losses, they took a chance and we're pleasantly surprised to find that they clicked as something more than just friends.

Then the second war began and duty pulled them apart in the interest of the public's wellbeing coming first.

It was times like this that she wished she had been more selfish.

"I had little to do with your present state of still breathing, Amy. Griffon's team pulled you, Susan and Moody's arses out of the fire."

Amelia nodded her head gratefully. "Thank them for me, wont you?"

Dragon sighed at that. At registering Amelia's questioning look he explained. "They're a little miffed at me just now. I came down rather hard on one of them for mixing it up with the Dark arse."

Amelia's eyes widened for a moment before taking on a suspicious edge. "Need I ask which one?"

Dragon shook his head, confirming her suspicions. Amelia was one of the few people outside of the Unspeakables that knew of Harry Potter's continued existence. He was a state secret and she knew solely because she was their head of state.

"How'd he do?" her auror instincts overriding her sense of caution at such an undertaking, knowing as she did about the existence of the Dark Lord's remaining few hoar cruxes.

Dragon snorted at that. "He did bloody fantastic- off the record."

Amelia smirked at that.

Dragon continued. "He held the wanker's attention long enough for Chameleon to sneak off a _reductor_ that took the bastard's leg off. They kept it on ice for Moody as a souvenir.

Amelia snorted a laugh at that, pulling up short almost immediately, wincing in pain.

"S-Sorry" he sighed regretfully once the spasm passed.

"Don't ever be sorry for that, Lewis. Moody will be thrilled to tears. I dare say he'll use it for a replacement of his own."

Lew Croaker nodded his appreciation of that thought.

"What've you got the boy doing for penance?" Amelia chided, getting back on topic.

"You know me too well." Lewis snorted. "Just a bit of guard duty so he doesn't get a swollen head and go off half cocked again."

"You must be very popular, about now?" Amelia smirked knowing how that would go over.

Lewis rolled his eyes. "You can ask him yourself, he's on your door. He won't even give me the time of day, just now."

Though their room had a silencing charm on it they could still hear the sounds from the hall; a necessary security precaution as any warning of immanent attack was a blessing.

A gasp of outrage from outside alerted the two.

"Take your hand off me!" Susan's voice demanded in outrage.

"I can't submit my wand for identification as I lost it in the battle that destroyed our home, no thanks to you lot." Susan all but shouted irately.

"Er,.. maybe I better..?" Lewis half suggested turning toward her room's door.

Amelia tightened her grip on his strong hand, wincing slightly at the strain, but deciding it was well worth it.

"Leave them to it." she suggested.

"I..I don't know , Amy? He's still not what you'd consider "well adjusted" to everything that happened that day." Lewis made foreboding quotation marks in the air.

He'll need to get over it and fast if he's going to be guarding Susan while I covalence?" Amelia suggested, quirking a mischieveious eyebrow over her wickedly smiling eyes.

"Ohh, you're evil you are." he snickered, kissing her hand again in delight.

"Look pal, I'm Susan Bones, wand or not, and I want to see my aunt, now!" Susan growled again.

"Whadaya mean-NO?" she shouted angrily.

"Maybe you'd better..?" Amelia began.

"Yeah" Lew agreed interrupting as he too didn't like the course of events culminating outside. Putting his hood up, he stepped to the door before Susan started something that Harry **wouldn't **most likely regret, given their history, unbeknownst to the witch.

He opened the door in haste, startling the girl, but was disappointed that Wraith didn't so much as remotely register his interruption.

"Your aunt will see you now." he said in a monotone voice, holding the door open for Susan to pass through.

"At least someone around here knows what's what." Susan snapped, glaring at Wraith sideways as she passed.

Dragon stepped up alongside Wraith, waiting until the door closed before he imparted the good news.

Aunt and niece had barely hugged before a voice outside boomed.

"What?...You're mental you are!"

"Good,.. he's getting his comeuppance." Susan nodded at the door, still bristling from the encounter.

"Doubtful." Amelia disagreed. "He's most likely just learned that he's been ordered to serve as your personal bodyguard during my stay in hospital."

"That git?" Susan blanched, thumbing back meaningfully in the direction she'd come.

Amelia pulled a face at that, reminding her niece.. "That git, as you put it? Is the man who went toe to toe with Voldemort himself and is the main reason you and I are still alive, child." she scolded reminding her niece that she was being both immature and that it wasn't appreciated at the same time.

"Gentlemen please, this is a hospital." A voice of authority intervened outside.

"Well that's good as he's going to need one!" Wraith threatened.

Amelia snorted at that, surprising Susan. "I thought Unspeakables obeyed orders without question?" she asked incredulously of her chuckling aunt.

Amelia kept half her attention directed toward the storm brewing outside not wanting to miss a thing as she answered vaguely that: "Wraith isn't exactly your "normal" Unspeakable, dear."

Susan rolled her eyes at the obviousness of that reply.

"I will not guard Susan Bone's bones- Got It?" he rallied, snickering at his own jibe.

More muffled pleading followed.

"Voldemort can have her if he's the stomach for it? He'll probably surrender within a week, begging us to lock him away from her." Wraith raged again.

"He seems acquainted with you, dear."Amelia snorted in amusement.

Susan's bright blue eyes narrowed to slits of fury as she made a half step toward the door. "Of all the nerve?"

"No wand dear." her aunt reminded her.

"I don't need a wand to deal with that.. that..."

"That **person** who fought off Voldemort?" her aunt suggested.

Susan turned her unspent ire on her aunt at that. "Well you're certainly high on the pretentious git?" Susan sniped venomously.

"That's because I'm older, wiser and better informed than you, dear."

"What's that supposed to mean?" her niece countered incredulously, but her aunt just smiled indulgently at her, infuriating the girl further.

An hour later Susan sat outside her aunt's room, with something less than patiently, waiting while the healer to evaluate her aunt's progress.

Having won the battle, but ultimately losing the war, as he saw it, Wraith was positioned in his careless stance of previous.

He leaned lazily against the door jamb twirling his wand between his fingers. The wand spun so quickly it resembled a fan blade and made a distinctive swooshing sound.

Despite herself, Susan could not help but be mesmerized at the display. Idly she wondered just how much practice and familiarity was required to know one's wand so intimately.

She fought down a shudder at the possibilities.

She sighed in relief when he paused momentarily, thinking he was finally tiring of his own game, cursing herself silently for the gasp that escaped her throat when a second wand appeared in his left hand and spun just as quickly as the original, only in the opposite direction.

Finally the healer vacated her aunt's room and indicated she could go in. Straightening her robes as she stood, she made to enter the waiting door when –he got in her way.

Wraith seamlessly glided back in front of the door after the healer's departure.

Susan pursed her lips impatiently waiting for some acknowledgement, cursing herself when she finally lost it and grumbled irately. "Well?"

"Present your wand for identification, please?"

She could swear she felt the migraine coming and was sure her right eye was already twitching as if it had a tic.

"You know damn well that I haven't got a wand just now." she spat acerbically.

"No wand?" he questioned idly.

"No" she spat back in confirmation.

"Then what good are you?" he asked.

Something snapped. Something in the back of her mind from a memory she tried and failed to forget came rushing back and she felt herself swooning.

Her legs gave out and she resigned herself to the damage the tile floor would cause before her world went black.

An hour or so later, Susan Bones woke up. Her eyes cracked open and shifted back and forth as she tried to remember what happened and where she was.

She tried and failed to fight down the sudden terror that gripped her as she mistakenly thought the Death Eaters had taken her. The events of the previous day came rushing back following up to arguing with that insufferable guard her aunt was forcing on her.

"You fainted." a calm, albeit cool voice offered standing next to the couch she was currently sprawled across in a waiting room down just across the hall from her aunt's room.

The last moments came rushing to the fore as she realized why she'd fainted... _those words_. Those same last words that she'd once said in a moment of pain and despair to another who was already hurting worse than she could imagine.

Merlin, how she hated herself for saying those words. How she wished and prayed she could take them back, knowing the revulsion and self loathing that filled her every time she resigned herself to the fact that it was too late.

He was gone.

Tears filled her soft blue eyes as she started to cry for the thousandth plus time for what was. How she wished she could have back that moment and take him in her arms and never let him go. How she wished she had comforted him along with herself.

A boy... she blamed a mere boy for being unable to do what Dumbledore himself couldn't. What teams of aurors had died uselessly in the attempt to do.

He'd survived not once, but several encounters against the dark fiend. She couldn't begin to fathom such a thing in the light of her own precarious survival. She'd watched helplessly as her aunt's best aurors fell like so much cannon fodder before the might of the Dark Lord. They were little more than an inconvenience to him. Like toddlers trying to tackle an adult on some playground.

Then _they_ came. She'd heard the stories first hand from her aunt. She heard how the Unspeakable's had taken the war to Voldemort as none had ever done before. How they'd decimated scores of Death Eaters including many of his inner circle.

She'd even heard about one team in particular that had distinguished themselves far and above the others.

An unimaginable thing considering that what she'd heard of the others was nothing short of astounding.

She'd heard how poor Luna had died, having been rescued too late not for any fault of the Unspeakable team doing the rescuing, but because two of her aunt's more trusted aurors had turned out to be traitors, bearing the dark mark.

It was just over two years since poor Luna had been laid to rest beside her father.

She's heard directly from her aunt that Luna had been avenged. She'd heard the name of her avenger, even though she was sworn to secrecy regarding that knowledge.

With a shudder, she remembered that name now. Strange that she hadn't thought of it before, now. She'd thought it an odd code name, even for an Unspeakable.

"Y-You're the one that rescued Luna,... L-Luna Lovegood." she stammered with the barest hint of appreciation in her tone to the Unspeakable looming next to her.

The spinning wands abruptly stopped.

She held a breath in apprehension as she waited for some acknowledgement.

"No" he said flatly, his wands disappearing into the sleeves of his robe.

"B-But.. auntie said it was you... Wraith isn't it?" she continued hesitantly. She didn't know why she did as it was rather nearly the same taboo to broach an Unspeakable as it was to say the Dark Lord's name.

"Obviously" he returned coolly, his finger pointing to the embroidered designation on his right chest.

"Then it was you,.. you saved Luna." Susan assumed.

"If I saved her than why is she dead?" he asked incredulously.

"T-That's not what I mean." Susan returned her temper rising slightly at the man's infuriating aloofness.

"I know it isn't."

Her temper rose more at this acknowledgement.

"Then why are you being this way? I'm only trying to..to t-thank you for what you did for her." She defended.

The face hidden within the cowl snorted at that. "I would have done that for anyone and gladly so. Don't thank me for doing my job and certainly not for failing to do it well enough to **save **her..." the man returned hollowly, but she could swear she heard a note of deepest regret despite his best efforts to seem coolly detached.

"T-Then thank you for saving me and my auntie." Susan said not only appreciatively, but respectfully.

"I didn't do that either." he returned too quickly. "Griffon , Raven and Dozer did that. I was _otherwise_ engaged." He remarked pointedly.

Susan couldn't be sure but she could swear that she could almost detect a certain note of fondness in voice, regarding what he was _otherwis_e engaged in.

She shuddered at that.

In the blink of any eye, warmth settled over her chasing away the cool dread she just experienced. She looked up with a gasp realizing he'd placed a _warming charm_ over her, but hadn't caught even a hint of movement from him despite their close proximity.

_H-How can anyone, even an Unspeakable, move that fast?_

He was even faster than Harry Potter and she hadn't thought anyone quicker than he was, what with his seeker's skills.

Her musing was interrupted by her escort asking the unexpected. "What do you do?"

"Wha.. ah , I'm studying toward a Charms mastery."

"And are you?" he asked vacantly.

"Am I what?"

"Are you _charming_?" The cowl covered head vibrated slightly and she could tell the git was struggling not to laugh out loud at his crack.

"Oh, HAH-HAH! That's a riot. Gee, I've never heard that one before." she sulked sarcastically.

After a moment, he asked further. "Who's teaching you?"

"Professor Flitwick from Hogwarts. He's going to retire in a few years and hopefully I'll be able to take over his classes by then.

The covered head nodded slightly in understanding. "Good teacher." he commented off handedly.

Susan gaped at that. "You went to Hogwart's?" she assumed, hoping for some glimpse at his identity, but the man was too quick for her.

"Never said that. Just that the man is a good instructor."

"But you must have attended his classes? How else could you know that he was a good teacher, which he is?"" Susan pressed.

"He doesn't just teach at Hogwarts." The man answered incredulously.

"Oh" Susan sighed in disappointment, realizing that Flitwick must have done some advanced instruction or other at the ministry for the aurors and Unspeakables and such.

Absently she remembered Griffon referring to Wraith as "the kid". If he was a younger man than maybe he really did go to Hogwarts? Maybe he was in a class close to hers.

"How old are you?" she asked sheepishly.

"Younger than I appear." came back a most dissatisfying response that he obviously found quite amusing, chuckling at his own cleverness as she would falsely assume it was because his features were shrouded by his cowl.

"Funny" she quipped.

The shrouded figure just shrugged.

Undaunted she pressed forward, changing tact slightly. "Do Unspeakables marry?"

The figure snorted at her roundabout way of trying to open a conversation designed toward discovering his identity.

"Where else do baby Unspeakables come from?" he deadpanned.

Susan snorted a laugh in spite of herself at that. "That obvious am I?"

"Exceedingly so, but just to be sporting, yes,.. some do marry, have families,..play quidditch, like other colors than dark blue, enjoy water polo, enjoy sunsets and long walks on the beach, engage in fine dining, dancing,..."

"Alright-Alright," Susan held up a hand in surrender, "no need to take the mickey." she relented.

Knowing she would get no further and seeing it growing dark outside the window, she asked cautiously.. "Can I please see my aunt so I can wish her good night even though I don't have a wand to identify myself?" she asked politely rather than try to bluster her way in by use of her family name.

The Unspeakable's hood seemed to dip thoughtfully before his hand moved like lightning and a wand shot into it. He spun the wand and presented it handle first toward the startled girl saying, "Eleven Inches, willow and unicorn hair; nice and supple... excellent for healing and charm work."

Susan gaped at the proffered wand. Wizards and witches just didn't relinquish their wands, even spare ones except in the midst of pitched battles and even then only temporarily and if they survived they wanted said wand immediately returned.

It was that much more astounding that an Unspeakable would relinquish one so casually for another's use.

"T-Thank you" she thanked the man, her hand trembling as the wand slid into her grasp.

Warmth filled her hand and golden sparks flew from the tip of the wand. With a delighted gasp she swished the wand in an arc and golden stars filled the air around her.

"Oh my' she gaped in wonder as the wand so readily accepted her. It was a perfect match.

The Unspeakable held up his hands in a nonthreatening gesture before his other wand appeared and he ran a quick diagnostic. He examined the results stating them out loud...

"Susan Bones, age twenty, eleven inches, willow and unicorn hair. It appears you've found a suitable replacement for your lost wand, Miss Bones. You may see your aunt now."

His permission given, the Unspeakable turned back to cool professionalism, their beginnings of a rapport having vanished into thin air. He returned to his post and slouched up against the room's door frame. His head dipped until, she assumed, his chin rested against his chest though it was hard to tell as it was so well shrouded by the hood he wore.

Once comfortable, he appeared to completely shut down. Susan could swear she heard him snoring softly as she passed by and into her aunt's room.

Susan's eyes cracked open, relishing the comfort of her own four poster bed in her own room.

_My room?!_

The blissful comfort of only moments before gone in an instant as she bolted upright in alarm.

Her mind scrambled trying to grasp how she came to be in her own room as the last thing she could remember was falling asleep in a chair at her sleeping aunt's bedside.

Her hands brushed down her waist as she tried to collect herself. She was wearing one of her most comfortable nightgowns. Her room was in perfect order except for a hastily discarded blouse and pair of jeans strewn at the foot of her bed.

_Was it a dream? _She considered absently as surely her room would have been as destroyed as the rest of the manor had seemingly been.

The smell of frying bacon and roasting coffee beckoned tantalizingly. With a delighted squeal she shot out of bed, not bothering to grab her robe or even her wand as she launched herself threw the doorway and down the hall.

Absently she noted that everything was as it should be as she trotted down the stair making for the kitchen.

"MMM, that smells good Kibby." she complimented their house elf as pushed through the kitchen's French doors.

A mysterious figure, from out of a dream, turned from the stove and snorted, "Glad to hear it only I'm not Kibby. Your elf took a bad knock to the head, trying to defend you lot, but she will make a full recovery and be coming home in a few days." he soothed her fears before she could even begin to ask after their family elf's welfare.

He wore jeans, tennis shoes and a black tank that held his name embroidered over the right chest: Wraith. He appeared to have blonde hair, but the rest of his face was somehow obscured and his features indistinguishable.

"Wha,.. but..how..?" Susan stammered clutching a door in each hand to keep her upright as the memories of the past two days flooded her consciousness.

Well muscled, but not bulky arms transferred the contents of several pans onto a plate waiting at the table. He returned the empty pans to the sink and set them washing by a quick wandless charm that had Susan gasp in awe at the ease with which he did so.

Wandless magic was exceeding difficult and rarely performed and even then only for simplest of spells such as household cleaning charms, like this. Still, the way he performed the charm with such casualness was amazing.

Desperately she wanted to ask what else he could do wandlessly, but thought better of the question, knowing he would probably be loath to divulge the extent of his abilities.

_If they had any extent? _Susan's eyes gathered in the room... it was exactly as it had been before the attack.

_The whole house she'd passed through was exactly as it had been before the attack!_

"How,.. our house...?" she splayed her arms wide indicating the whole of the pristine repairs made to their mansion.

His shoulders shrugged noncommittally as he stated the obvious. "Magic"

That said he pulled out the dining chair for her and instructed her to: "Eat while your food's still warm."

Haltingly, Susan seated herself, surprised as he helped her slide her chair closer to the table.

Her mouth watered as she reached placed a napkin on her lap. Fresh fruit, pancakes, bacon.. a wonderful breakfast, their house repaired,...?"

She'd just barely taken her first bite when she unconsciously sighed in appreciation, "mmm..."

"Glad you like it." he offered before adding... "I've taken the liberty of reestablishing the ward scheme around the property and adding several updates that I'll go over with you after you finished and had a chance to put some clothes on.

Her fork halted an inch from her mouth. Her initial surprise over his having re-warded the property was soon forgotten as the second part of his announcement sunk in.

Her eyes shot downward and widened in alarm as the morning sun through the window highlighted the curve of her chest through her rather opaque night gown.

Her face flamed in embarrassment as her arm shot across her chest trying to cover her modesty.

The fact that her seemingly kind host was leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee that he was chuckling between sips of did not help the matter.

Her modesty begged her to run screaming from the room , but her appetite won out and she continued eating, with one arm over her chest and her napkin covering as much of her lap as possible. The pancakes were, for the most part, absolutely delicious, all except for that one that had been a bit lumpy, but otherwise fine.

She goggled stupidly as he went over the warding scheme with her for the second time. The first hadn't sunk in as he'd lost her during his listing of the mastery level wards he'd put in place.

When he told her he'd applied a _Fidelius charm_ to not only the manse but the entire estate she knew she must not have understood him and asked him to repeat himself.

"I put a Fidelius charm over the estate, with myself as secret keeper for the time being. Your aunt, the directors of the MLES and the Unspeakables and yourself being the only ones keyed into the ward. I suggest we keep it to that for the time being as I'm sure Voldemort won't take having lost his leg with a pinch of salt."

"A Fidelius charm?" Susan goggled in disbelief.

"Yes"

"A fidelius charm over the entire estate?"

"I'm sorry you don't approve. Your aunt was quite specific that we were to make the estate as impenetrable as possible. I thought it prudent to take this extra precaution." he explained himself thinking she was displeased with the changes to the warding he'd instilled.

She waved off his explanation and tried to make her shock more clearly understood.

"How?"

"How what?" he repeated, not catching her drift.

"How did you put a fidelius charm over the entire estate?" she clarified further.

"Not easily. I had to cast it in overlapping charms and then connected the whole to a rune stone in a secret location. Tiring that." he ventured, showing a hint of his own weariness for the first time this morning.

_He'd repaired their home, warded the entire estate, including the Fidelius charm,.. and cooked her breakfast in a single night!_

_Stupidly, _she realized, she asked the obvious. "You did all that in a single night?"

He nodded absently, adding. "The minister wanted it done as soon as possible."

She didn't know how long she stood their gapping like a fish out of water, nor did she even wonder how he kept from laughing at the way her mouth must've been opening and closing –fish like, as she tried and failed to express her stunned disbelief.

_Flitwick himself couldn't have done that. An entire goblin team couldn't ward an estate this size in a single night. _

His fingers snapping in front of her face roused her back to reality.

Before he could so much as form a syllable to inquire after her welfare, she lunched herself at him, engulfing him in a hug as she gasped, "Thank-you, Thank-you..." repeatedly, before dissolving into tears as the pent up emotions of the past few days caught up to her.

He stiffened beneath her arms, and made no effort what so ever to return the hug, but did manage to murmur soft, albeit, uncomfortable reassurances until she was able to collect herself enough to release him and step back, embarrassedly scrubbing the tear tracks from her face.

"S-Sorry" she apologized softly.

He tried to wave off her apology as unnecessary while trying and failing to hide the way he shuddered uncomfortably from the contact she'd initiated.

Mortified, Susan hurried away and sequestered herself in her room, sobbing into her pillow. She didn't know which was worse; her breaking down completely in front of a relative stranger or said stranger's reaction to her loss of composure.

What seemed like hours, but was perhaps only a few minutes later; a tentative knock on her door caught her attention. A pregnant pause followed, that almost had her in a fresh wave of tears, before the object of her dismay cleared his throat and informed her that...

"I..I require about two hours rest. Please do not leave the mansion during that time."

"A-Alright" she stammered in agreement, before crying again as she realized he hadn't even waited for her reply.

Two hours later found Susan fidgeting nervously, having silently gone over apology after lame apology in her own head as she eyed the clock on the family room's mantel.

Two hours became two and a half and slowly, ever so slowly the minute hand inched toward the twelve. Finally, her nerves shot, she decided to leave to visit her aunt, despite the promise she'd made to remain. She threw a pinch of floo powder in the flames and floo'd away without even bothering to leave a note behind.

She'd barely broached her aunt's room and said hello, her aunt's own greeting dying on her lips as a hand reached around from behind and spun Susan around by the shoulder.

"You were told to wait!" Wraith barked angrily, looming over the girl in full battle robes. She couldn't see his face within his shroud, but she was almost certain she'd spied a flash of emerald fire from where his eyes would be.

"I..I waited almost t-three hours.." she tried to defend meekly. It sounded pathetic even to herself.

"You are not to leave the estate without an escort at anytime. Not for any reason." he reminded, having laid down the ground rules only this morning and had her repeat them verbatim to show she understood them completely.

Susan pulled her arm angrily away, her soft eyes hardening along with her temper. "I-I'll do as I like." she spat back petulantly.

"No.. you won't." her aunt intervened from behind. Susan paled at that, her anger gone in a trice at her aunt's own admonishment putting her in her place.

Aunt Amelia pushed herself up further on her pillows as she chastised her niece. "You will follow Wraith's direction at any and all times. Am I understood, young lady?"

Susan nodded absently at that. Her aunt was not someone to cross that was a lesson she'd learned the hard way over time.

"Good" Amelia Bones said in a satisfied tone.

Despite the circumstances, she realized something that piqued her curiosity. She turned toward Wraith who was still standing uncomfortably close as if reluctant to let her get beyond arm's reach. "How did you find me so quickly?"

"Perimeter alarm registered your having left. After that it was a simple matter of following your magical signature." He informed her coolly, back in professional mode again.

"But how,.. I don't have a tracker on me, not even a charm? I checked." she returned incredulously.

"Not on you, in you. You ate it this morning."

Susan gapped at the Unspeakable, her aunt laughing up riotously, before clutching her ribs in pain and then laughing again.


	5. Chapter 5: Back with a vengeance

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N: Thank you so much for the many reviews and private messages.

* * *

**Chapter Five: Back with a vengeance**

"Now be a good girl and eat your nice blueberry pancakes."

Susan rolled her eyes and balked sarcastically at that. "Right, sure... I should swallow another one of your nasty little tracking devices? Just how gullible do you think I am?"

That said she pushed aside her plate and polished off her orange juice, smacking her lips for effect before helping herself to a refill from the iced pitcher in front of her.

Wraith shrugged indifferently and proceeded to pull her plate in front of him and dig in with gusto, rolling his eyes with pleasure as he munched away happily.

"Wha,.. of all the ...?" Susan gapped in outrage for having let herself be duped out of a delicious meal for the fifth time this week.

_This has got to stop._

It wasn't just the fact that she'd lost seven pounds from lack of nutritional intake coupled with the grueling twice a day "lessons" her bodyguard put her through, which were nothing short of absolute torture in the form of self defense both muggle and magical.

Nor was it the fact that he took particular delight in driving her to the point of exhaustion mixed with the cool indifferent attitude he took around her by comparison to the gallant way he treated her aunt, earning the minister's absolute confidence and respect.

Her aunt fairly fawned over the man. She took to him in a way Susan had never seen her aunt so readily take to anyone previously.

It wasn't even the fact that his grueling lessons were showing dividends. So noticeable was her improved wand work that Professor Flitwick had her convey his regards to her "tutor".

No, what was truly driving Susan to the point of distraction was the endlessly inventive way that her "Bodyguard/ Drill Instructor/ Aunt's favorite/Tutor/ everything and anything he set his hand to mastering... took the mickey out of her with an ease that was absolutely infuriating.

Susan watched in loathing as he mopped up the last nuances of maple syrup with his last bite of pancake before sighing appreciatively.

"Bastard" she spat at his self satisfied/smug expression. Yes, she could see his face. Not that she was any closer to learning his identity.

She'd spent the better part of two days going through school records trying to match his face with a name. Just when she thought she had hit pay dirt, he showed up the very day she was going to confront him with a new set of features.

The only reason she knew it was him from the get go was because he was wearing the face of the deceased- Harry Potter. This not only infuriated her, but had her spending the better part of the day crying desolately in her room.

**...Flashback...**

"That was cruel." Minister Bones admonished in a disappointed tone.

"I didn't know when I took the polyjuice that it was one of the originals I'd saved from before. It must have gotten mixed in with my supply of false identities. I honestly didn't intend..." he drifted off, looking crestfallen toward the direction Susan had fled in tears.

Amelia Bones nodded at that, accepting his excuse as being nothing more than accidental and not intentional. She'd never known Harry Potter to act vindictively, though Merlin knows if there was anyone who ever had a right to, it was him.

Curiously, she asked: "Why did you keep .." she motioned toward his face for emphasis, words failing her as seeing him "alive", as it were, was quite disconcerting.

"Wouldn't you?" he questioned in return, satisfied by her helpless shrug in the face of curios morbidity.

I was thinking maybe once the threat of Voldemort is over we could find a way to make the polyjuice more permanent or some such. Maybe even muggle plastic surgery."

Madam Bones pulled a face at so barbaric a notion, but sighed in understanding of his plight.

"I-It must be very strange, I imagine. Unsettling even?' she asked sympathetically.

The _wraith_ standing in his fifteen year old body shrugged helplessly. "I-It just feels wrong. I don't know how else to explain it. At first it was hard to move around. I was dead clumsy until I got my bearings. Every time I looked in the mirror was.. er,.. disconcerting."

"I can only imagine" Amelia agreed compassionately. She chanced a look toward the stair her niece had fled up and sighed wearily.

At length she decided he needed to know the breadth of what his seemingly innocent faux pas was costing Susan.

She cast several strong privacy charms around the area and despite his advanced training, he had to admit he was impressed by the display and even asked her to show him one he didn't recognize.

"Harry,..." at seeing him stiffen slightly, she amended hastily.. "Drew?"

He nodded agreement albeit reluctantly. "I think it better to err on the side of caution as my true identity would not be well received on the whole. I've much to atone for, should I live so long."

She wanted to argue that last with him, but in all good conscious she still knew it was only a fifty/fifty chance that he would survive the war.

He was strong,.. very strong magically and he was absorbing advanced training like a sponge, but the bottom line was that Voldemort had years and years on him and all manner of dark wizards and creatures at his disposal. As good as her Unspeakables were they were not unstoppable.

"Should things turn out.. well? Would you then wish to reveal yourself to our world again?"she asked cautiously. She knew enough from talking with, at length, that this was a touchy subject at best. There were so many deep seated emotions mixed with such an undertaking, not the least of which was deep seated shame and regret over what he'd done in a moment of weakness.

"Yes,.." he paused to reconsider his hasty response. His face darkened slightly as he recinded.

"No,... I.. don't know?" He pulled a face and ran his fingers worriedly through his hair. It was a nervous habit leftover that he rarely performed anymore as it could give himself away.

"I..I'd like to, but my friends.. they deserve better. They're moving on,.. and don't get me wrong, that's a good thing, but...?"

He paused overlong lost in his tumultuous thoughts.

"But..?" Amelia urged in a kind tone.

"But,..are they.. could they even want to still be my friends anymore? How could I expect...How could anyone get,.. get past something like this? I..I've hurt them terribly." he left off woefully, his voice filled with desolate regret.

"You've hurt yourself far worse,.. I think?" Amelia suggested. "You've made the best of what is and have become a stronger, more capable person as a result. You're not the same person that you were, but neither are they. It could be a new beginning for all of you."

"It could also be a disaster." Harry suggested.

She nodded at that as harsh a thing as it was to admit, she knew from Lewis that above all he valued honesty and loathed being patronized to spare his feelings. She chanced a glance at the stairway, sensing that now was as good a time as any to broach the subject she had intended, especially as it applied to their current conversation.

"Susan was devastated when... you know?" she left off uncomfortably.

He nodded his understanding, urging her with his expressive green eyes to continue her point.

"She thought, and perhaps deservedly so, that she was the reason you'd,.. jumped?"

He was about to intervene at that but she shushed him with a raised hand, asking silently to let her continue.

"She wasn't, at least not wholly responsible, I know,.. but can you honestly say that she wasn't one such straw that broke the hippogriff's back?"

He was about to deny her accusation out of hand, but she interrupted with a hasty, "Be honest."

At length he finally sighed out a regretful,.. "No"

She thought he was finished, but he surprised her giving an insight into that afternoon that even Susan in her most emotional breakdown had never divulged exactly what had transpired.

"I..I thought I was beyond hurting at that point. I was numb and resolved to just shuck it all and leave the magical world as far behind as I could get. My friends.. their parents.. they..."

He struggled to explain, but she already knew at least this much of the story. Arthur and she had shared many difficult afternoons as he'd tried and failed to let go his own pain and guilt.

"I know." She soothed simply.

"Gryffindor.. my friends and classmates they...b-banished me. I.. I didn't even know such a thing could be done...? I.. didn't have anywhere else to go. M-My godfather he...Sirius was my last.. family.., he died..it was...if I hadn't of...?"

"It was not your fault child. Sirius Black was a courageous wizard, just like his friends and godson. People die in battle. You know the truth of this as well as any." she chided gently, forcing him to see reason.

He scrubbed at his too bright eyes and nodded his agreement. "A-Anyway.. It.. it was a lot and well.. Susan had found me at my lowest point. It wasn't her fault, not any of it... it wasn't anything we hadn't discussed before. She was upset over Cedric. She wanted to know why? I.. I guess I finally decided that she needed to hear it; to really hear the senselessness of his death."

He was about to leave it at that, but she could tell there was more so she urged him to continue.. "And...?"

He pulled a face, but answered. "And I told her how he was killed by Pettigrew on Voldemort's orders because he was no more than an inconvenience. That's all we really are to Voldemort. He sees us as bugs that he has no compunction stepping on to get what he wants."

Amelia nodded her understanding, if such a notion could be understood other than to simply realize you were dealing with a monster and this was how such vile creatures thought.

"S-She had the **Prophet **and wanted to know why I hadn't killed him when she thought I had the chance during the battle at the ministry?"

Amelia winced at that. She was one of the few that knew the intimate deals of that entire night. She knew how no more than mere school children bested his lackeys and held a monster's designs at bay. Just as she knew that one who lost his last family that night snapped and faced something that her best hit wizards wouldn't contemplate not even in a moment of utter insanity.

But a child did. A child with uncommon valor stood toe to toe with a nightmare. He may have lasted mere seconds before power and experience beyond his keen laid him low, but in those seconds a legend had been born.

How many times since had aurors gone into battle with the name of "Harry Potter" on their lips, steeling their resolve and rallying their fellows.

Amelia's drifting thoughts returned when he divulged something that caught the breath in her very chest.

"I told her that I couldn't beat him. That I didn't have the power then, I'm not any more sure I do now,.. not really?"

Amelia Bones snorted derisively at that, but it did not reassure him as he was lost in his own dire recollections.

"Sh-She said .. "Then what good are you?" .."

Amelia gasped at the unthinking cruelty of children, especially when they were in pain and the true object of their loss and anguish was unavailable to take their pain out on.

"I..I guess... I realized, well,.. I thought that maybe she was right,.. at the time. We were kids, what did we know from monsters and madmen? All we knew was right and wrong, good or bad. We didn't know the price of such things." he finished pointedly.

She gaped in spite of herself at that, marveling at the maturity he displayed and the wisdom attained by one still so young.

She knew that throwing the two of them together would be, on the surface, a bad thing, but she hoped that Susan and he would find something to build anew from and perhaps each would help the other heal. He was light years ahead of Susan in some ways as evidenced by his words, but in others they were still floundering.

A thought occurred that she had only briefly considered before. "If it hadn't been Susan but someone else, anyone else,.. do you think it would have been so devastating to you.. those words,.. at that time?" she struggled a bit, but she could see by his stricken appearance that she had guessed right.

"No,. I mean yeah,.. yeah it probably would've. I.. I was in a bad place and like you said,.. it was the final straw." He amended his initial denial and almost convinced her of his sincerity, almost.

"Are you sure?" she pressed. "Or was it particularly painful coming from Susan?"

His hands tore their way through his hair, his eyes glancing toward the exits from the room and Amelia was certain he would bolt any second.

"I.. I don't know what you mean?" he balked, fidgeting anxiously.

"Don't you? Don't you really?" Amelia pressed her advantage.

Her own emotions were running high, sure that she was on to something very important. Her anticipation turned to surprise when the poly juice potion ran its course and Harry Potter dissolved into Drew Jenson, but that wasn't the part that was startling. It was the eyes.

Drew Jenson's blue eyes held a hint of emerald fire at their cores and that fire hardened his countenance as surely as a blacksmith's anvil until not Drew Jenson or even Harry Potter were standing before her, but Wraith and all that pseudonym meant to only a few privileged individuals outside of the Unspeakables.

Here stood before her an avenging spirit within the flesh.

The physical change was not what was most unsettling, but the change in his demeanor. He radiated power and confidence. He was cool precision.

She knew her advantage had disappeared like dust motes on the breeze. No more would she glean as any vulnerability from previous was gone in the face of this dread spectre.

She was wrong in her summation.

"You seek to make mountains from molehills, Minister. What is was. What may have been has long since passed. I have my duty and with it I shall have my vengeance." he proclaimed before ghosting from the room, leaving her speechless.

It was several long moments later when, hardened auror, that she was, she was able to collect herself and come to the very real certainty that what he hadn't revealed had been quite intentional and that Wraith was as much a mask for him as it was the rest of the world.

One thing more...there was a hint of Susan hidden away behind that mask.

**...End of Flashback...**

"Bastard" Susan had spat back in his smug face after having duped her out of her breakfast by playing on her paranoia that he was trying to get her to unwittingly ingest another tracking device.

She knew this because she had just passed the last one yesterday, uncomfortably so, and suspected he knew this as well as he'd suddenly taken another suspicious interest in her intake over the last twenty-four hours.

"You have no idea." He agreed airily. The smug grin on his face deepened further if that was even possible.

"Oh yes I do." Susan shot back petulantly.

"No,.. you really don't." he reassured the fuming girl. Casually he reached across the table and poured her another glass of orange juice from the pitcher.

"Why don't you consider it over another glass of orange juice, only,.. **mind **the pulp."

With that he burst into malevolent laughter and sauntered from the room.

"Oh.. you dirty...BASTARD!" Susan half gasped in dread understanding before screaming at his retreating form.

* * *

It was three weeks after Voldemort's attempted assassination and Christmas was looming on the horizon which is why she assumed Wraith was particularly irritable and distracted one evening as he prowled around the mansion checking and rechecking the wards. He no doubt was missing his own family and wanting to spend the holidays with them, but was stuck here on perpetual guard duty.

Susan didn't know how far from the mark she was in her assumption, but she was soon to find out.

Aunt Amelia had resumed her ministerial duties, albeit in a limited capacity as she was not yet fully healed from her ordeal. Her worried floo call home to make sure that they were there and to order them to remain so had Susan waiting on pins and needles.

Wraith took the ominous floo call in stride. If anything, he seemed to be expecting it.

A few sparse hours later a haggard, Amelia Bones floo'd home over their mansions secure floo.

She grabbed up her, worried to tears, niece and cooed gentle reassurances into the trembling girls hair, holding her tight more to reassure herself than her niece.

Her eyes drifted around the room realizing they were alone. She pulled back and asked after their guard to which Susan's eyes drifted upward toward the mansion's balcony by way of an answer.

"He's been in a right state all afternoon. He seemed to be expecting your call. What's happening?" Susan knew enough to know that when her aunt was like this big things were happening and they weren't in the 'nice things' category.

"There are Death Eater attacks all over the country. Revelries, they call them."Amelia pulled a disgusted face at what that portended, causing Susan to shudder in dread. Her aunt did not balk easily by any stretch of the imaging, so for her to have this sort of reaction was very telling.

At length she persuaded Susan to make a pot of tea, informing her that she would invite Wraith to join them. Susan rolled her eyes at that as he had completely ignored any and all attempts to come down from his perch.

Perched is exactly how Amelia found him. A large brown barn owl was perched on their balcony rail, surveying the estate's ground with the wary eyes of a nocturnal predator.

She stepped alongside the owl without the slightest trepidation asking simply. "How many?"

The owls head twisted around toward the minister and its black eyes blinked several times in succession.

"Six" she acknowledged, counting the pointed eye blinks. Then she asked more importantly. "Is he out there?"

The owl growled a low purring growl and its feathers ruffled irately by way of an answer.

Amelia sighed expectantly at that. Moody had been right. The revelries were a diversion, one that they were forced to deal with lest the death toll know no bounds.

She was the target. Voldemort had returned and was prowling the perimeter of their wards. Normally, she wouldn't be the least concerned that anyone was trying to find them beneath a _fidelius charm_, but this just wasn't anyone. He'd proven he could find a way around the charm, even though the last time was due to a traitor's aid.

"You can't go out there." she half reminded, half worried that he would do just that.

The owl ruffled its feathers and hooted defiantly into the night.

"Merlin, you're stubborn." she chided, adding. "Brave too, but brash like your father and Godfather. They were very brave, but could be reckless. You know it too."

The owl's head pivoted around at that and she could distinctly tell it was irritated by her choice of conversation just now.

"If you go out there and fall, how soon after will I and Susan join you in death?"

The owl ruffled again.

She drove her point home. "What do you think he'll do with Susan before he kills her?"

The owl's head pivoted around and glared at her, clucking its beak angrily.

She grimaced under its glare, but inwardly she was floating.

_More proof to the pudding_.

Things seemed to revolve around Susan where he was concerned whether he knew it, let alone would admit it or not.

They sat quietly together after that, each calmly watching the stars blink into existence.

After a few minutes he transformed back from his animagus form.

She winced at the sound of bones snapping and reforming. "Does that hurt?" she asked curiously, wondering why it hadn't occurred to her before.

"Yeah, but it's over quick." he reassured her.

"They're gone then?" she asked after their unwanted guests.

He smirked at that. "No, but he's frustrated and taking it out on the rest."

Amelia smirked herself in understanding what that meant.

"Why don't you help him drive the point home?" she suggested conspiratorially.

He shot her a questioning look before he cottoned on to the direction of her thoughts.

"Ohh,.. you're evil you are." he complimented.

He withdrew a small object from a hidden pocket in his robes and canceled the shrinking charm.

A large black compound bow with several arrows in its mounted quiver grew from his hand.

Surprisingly he planted a quick kiss of gratitude on her cheek and apparated down to the ground below. She watched his dark form trot predatorily into the darkness.

Idly she wondered just how much mischief he'd get up to. She didn't have to wait long before shouts of alarm echoed out in the night, only to be cut short.

She heard the unmistakable shout of challenge followed by a resounding **clang**, of metal striking metal, shortly followed by a scream of pain and outrage.

She didn't have to wonder long what happened as moments later he apparated onto the balcony next to her, laughing uproariously with his bow slung over his back, it's quiver emptied of projectiles.

That's how Susan found them. Her aunt brought her up to speed on everything save his animagus form. The two watched in amusement as he continued chuckling, bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping for air.

Finally, his guffaws dissipated enough for Amelia to ask, "Well?"

He held up three fingers.

"You got three of them?" she assumed hopefully, to which he nodded.

"What was that clang and that scream it sounded like..?"

"It w-was." He chuckled. "The dark wanker took offense to me ganking his stooges. He summoned a metal shield and challenged me to come out and fight him like a proper wizard-Ha-Ha!" he resolved to racking laughter clutching his sides.

"You didn't?" Amelia half scolded apprehensively.

He shook his head and finally was able to gasp out. "I..I only had two arrows left so I made them count. I shot him in his shield knocking the damn thing off his arm-p-probably broke it- he-he.."

"And then?' Amelia prodded beginning to lose patience.

"He screamed like a girl and tried to apparate away... when he turned to apparate...I.. I.. Har!"

"You d-didn't?" Amelia broke into laughter along with him.

"Didn't what? What did you do?" Susan gasped in exasperation.

"When he turn to apparate...I.. I put an a-arrow in his arse! Haw-Haw-Haw!"

"He-He.. He'll probably kill a dozen of the fools before someone's able to pull it out-Ha!" Amelia dissolved into a puddle of great racking laughter at that image.

In reality it was more like only four Death Eaters with another crutio'd into insanity before someone was smart enough to use a _summoning spell_ on the arrow from a safe distance away.

* * *

"Twenty-three..."

"Unghh..."

"Tewntyyy-fourrr..."

"Oh..ohhh,..errr..."

"Twenty-five!"

"Uh..I..I can't..." Susan whined, gasping for breath.

"Come on, just one more and you'll reach a new high." Wraith coaxed.

"Urgggg!"

"Twenty-five." He acknowledged happily.

"Wha...What do s-sit ups have to do with being a better witch?" Susan gasped, collapsing in a heap of misery at his feet, clutching her stomach supportively through another painful spasm.

"A strong mind and body supports a strong magical core. Do you just wave your wand and the heavens tremble? No,.. you have to put strength into a spell and the stronger the body casting the spell, the stronger the spell that's produced. Studies prove that even a mediocre wizard in good physical shape can cast stronger spells and for a longer duration than another wizard of the same magical caliber who relies solely on his magical strength. Besides that, the better physical shape you're in the better you'll be able to evade attacking spells. "The best defense is not a shield, but to not to get hit". Alastor Moody said that in "Defending the defenceless".

Susan nodded her head wearily in understanding having the utmost respect for Master Aurur Moody as he aunt would tolerate nothing less.

That done, Wraith saw yet another opportunity to take the mickey. "If nothing else, at least stronger stomach muscles will aid you in childbirth. You'll be able to pop the little buggers out lickety-split. A faster delivery means less duration of agonizing pain. Who knows, maybe you'll be so grateful you'll name your first after me?"

Usually Susan would usually gasp in outrage at such comments, lose her temper and make impotent threats or at worst, (as far as she was concerned), she'd blush embarrassedly.

The fact that she was getting use to his constant jibes was evident as she smugly retorted. "Maybe I don't play for that team; therefore pregnancy won't be an option."

What she thought was a clever return didn't throw his timing in the least as he shot right back. "Then at least your er.._partner_ will benefit from your increased stamina."

He chuckled merrily as he walked off, enjoying yet another chalk stroke in the win column as Susan flamed crimson at that.

"Urghh!" Susan entered the house fuming at the ease with which she let her "bodyguard" get under skin.

"Something wrong, dear?" her aunt cajoled, looking up from the evening Prophet she was perusing. She was home early for diner, enjoying a bit of relaxation which was becoming less and less commonplace as the war against Voldemort progressed.

"Grr.." Susan grumbled under her breath before spitting out venomously. "How much long do we have to put up with that git?"

Amelia dropped her jaw down beneath her newspaper to cover her smirk. "Hmm, until Voldemort either surrenders or he's ordered to rejoin his team. Maybe he'll just get tired of us and ask for a transfer on his own?" she conjectured.

"Gets tired of us?" Susan rolled her eyes barking out incredulously. "Can't you order him back to the Unspeakables, or better yet send him to Voldemort and you'll accomplish both options at once as the dark lord is sure to surrender to get away from the repugnant.."

"Susan" her aunt cut her off warningly. "Wraith is both a guest and a privilege to have in this house and one we are quite fortunate to have. I dare say that even the Minister of Magic doesn't normally warrant their own personal bodyguard, let alone an Unspeakable. Were we not under imminent threat from Voldemort himself, we could never expect to enjoys such peace of mind. He not only keeps us safe, but according to your instructors he's improved upon your magical abilities drastically, not to mention the, er, benefits all the training has had on your figure, dear." Amelia waved her hand over Susan's noticeably improved figure for emphasis.

The exercise and training had done wonders for her figure, not that she'd admit it and certainly not to that.. er,.. **him**.

Susan ran her hands slightly down her hips appreciating the drop in dress size she was currently relishing.

"But still, does he have to be so,.. so..grr...?" Words failed her as thoughts of the man set her hackles on edge.

It was all Amelia could do not to laugh at her niece's expense. She turned the page of the paper she was hiding behind feigning disinterest as she returned blandly. "I don't suppose it ever occurred to you that perhaps Wraith, himself, may want to be as far away from you as you _seemingly_ think you want to be away from him, hmm?"

"Huh,.. what do you mean **seemingly**?" Susan huffed in outrage at the implication.

"In the words of the great poet: "methinks you protest too much", dear." her aunt simpered, silently congratulating herself for a not half bad imitation of Umbridge.

"Protest too much?!" Susan shrieked aghast.

Seeing that Susan was heading toward one her legendary tantrums, Amelia headed her off by going for the throat, er,.. _suggesting instead_, "What you need is a night out to unwind. Why don't you give Hanna a call and make an evening of it?"

Susan immediately deflated, instantly cottoning to the idea. "I think that sounds great."

She turned on her heal and headed for the floo to call Hanna, giving her aunt the opportunity she'd been waiting for.

"Should I tell your bodyguard to dress formal or casual, dear?"

"Wha..URGG!" Susan threw up her hands and was raving as she stomped away.

Rather than congratulating herself on a job well done or making plans for a quiet evening alone; Amelia buried her face in the newspaper and laughed herself sick.

* * *

**Two hours later...**

"I tell you Lewis I haven't laughed so much in years." Amelia chuckled over the glass of wine she was sharing with her old friend.

"Min said he was rather shy and wholly clueless when it came to young ladies in school." Lewis smirked at the description in retrospect.

Amelia snorted at that, almost spilling her wine. "Well he's come out of his shell and certainly knows how to get under one young lady's skin, I can tell you."

Is Susan the only lady in this house he's affected?" he asked flirtatiously, though no less suspiciously.

"Oh, stop. He's a perfect gentleman around me. Maybe too much of a gentleman." she flirted right back.

Lew Croaker cocked an eyebrow at that but wisely avoided commenting further and risk stirring the pot. Besides, he was hardly a teenager with teenage insecurities.

"Griff is in my office every day; whining one day and demanding the next to have his teammate returned forthwith."

"I don't blame him." Amelia complimented. "Are you entertaining the notion seriously?" She asked a tad apprehensively. She'd grown quite accustomed to living in less fear knowing Wraith was watching over her and Susan.

Lew shook his head; his face wore a serious expression. "Not on your life which is exactly what I'd be risking if I took him of your detail.

Amelia couldn't help feeling relieved, letting out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding until he reassured her.

They were perched on the sofa by the fire, enjoying a pleasant evening. One of the rare few they were afforded.

She missed this terribly, among other things. Along that line she ventured. "You could spend more time here to personally see to my,.. er, _our_ safety in relief? That would give him a chance to join his team from time to time."

Lew smirked at that. "Is Griff's team success the only reason you're making such an overture" he inquired facetiously.

Amelia coyly shook her head and took a slow sip of her wine, her eyes sparkling mischievously... invitingly.

Lew Croaker proved he was not a teenager with teenage insecurities as he hastily cast a few _silencing_ and _notice me not charms_ around the air and slid closer toward her side of the sofa.

He needn't have bothered as it would be sometime before Susan and company would return from their evening out.

* * *

Susan and Hanna joined up with a few others of their fellow Puffs from school and currently owned the dance floor at "Magic Moments", a more upscale wizarding night club in central London. Susan wore a form hugging soft blue gown with silver sequins sparyed across the bodice that both kept with the colors of a wintry season and highlighted her blue eyes to perfection, coincidentally of course. Her soft strawberry tresses bounced to the beat as she and her friends gyrated around the floor, much to the pleasure of the many wizards manning the bar, trying to goad each other into making a move.

The only set of male eyes not glued to the female contingent was one such figure dressed in black slacks, a form fitting black, short sleeved shirt and dragon hide boots. Between the dark outfit he wore and the way he kept to the shadows in a far corner of the club he may have as well used a disillusionment spell as no one showed the slightest awareness of his presence.

As far as taking little to no notice of the dancing female party enjoying their night, he did actually register some distant awareness of them, though he was far more interested in the rest of the club.

He'd begrudgingly agreed to keep a low profile and allow Susan to have some semblance of a free and unhindered night out. Besides, if he were honest, Susan had made great strides in their personal training regimen and he was fairly confident that she could protect herself well enough until she could get away safely in most way, he wasn't overly concerned as an atmosphere such as this usually only produced the rare jealous brawl and such, but time would tell as the evening wore on as alcohol and magic did not mix well with young amorous wizards.

Unfortunately, as luck would have it; Susan and company were getting more than their fare share of attention and many of the youths were over imbibing as they worked up the nerve to make a play for the object of their desire's attention.

He himself was treating himself to a good old fashioned Coke. If it was one thing,( of which there were many), that the muggles did right it was soft drinks. Unfortunately, they didn't mix well with Polyjuice, but they helped take away some of the bitterness. He was enjoying his second such when things became more interesting for not only his, but also Susan and company's point of view.

The male contingents were sufficiently plied with alcohol to find a semblance of courage and approached the gyrating witches in twos and threes.

Hanna Abbot was the first approached. No surprise there as the witch practically glowed with sex appeal. Hanna had long blonde hair, a tight black dress and just enough of a hint of perspiration from her dancing to give her a breath taking glow of vitality. The fact that her body was deliciously curved did not lessen the appeal either.

Surprisingly, Susan was not the next off the chopping block. He checked himself wondering why he should care whether or not Susan was immediately appealing to the opposite sex.

_Should he care at all?_

Minutes waned and several dances later things became more troublesome, by his point of view, as a bit more touching and heated kisses were exchanged.

Though he was by no means the worldly sort, neither was he as naïve as he had once been, noting with increased attention that this was the point whereby people, especially young males under the influence, became more possessive and inevitably- jealous.

Jealousy and passion, while not a bad thing in small doses, could very well escalate to trouble if left unchecked.

The first such example came when two young bucks decided that Hanna was the witch of their dreams at roughly the same time. Each took an arm and were engaged in a tug of war for the object of their affection.

Again- no surprise there. What was a surprise is when a wand came to hand and the young men were cooled down by a quick aquamenti charm by the young witch. The charm wasn't so much the surprise, but where was she keeping a wand hidden in–_that dress_?

Yet another mystery of the species that he would have to ask Griffon about. He could ask Dragon, that is if he wanted another lecture about 'wands and wand holders'. The man loved his metaphors.

For this particular insight he would prefer Griffon and his teammates as they were more his age and knowledgeable about the er,.. latest female fashions. The whole debate about front clasp versus back closure bras was still a topic of much debate mixed with trial and error.

Personally he didn't see what all the fuss was about. Why not a just use a quick _vanishing charm_?

UH-Oh... his quiet musings were interrupted by the fact that Susan was engaged in some rather heated tongue dancing against the wall off one of the lounges.

Again- not surprising. The bloke she'd spent most of the evening with seemed a nice enough sort as most went. He had paced himself at the bar, wasn't too grabby on and off the dance floor and had the decency to hold her chair when they took a break.

He dressed decently, not too showy and not two informal. He appeared about Susan's age and was a half way decent looking wizard with an easy laugh.

_So why didn't he like the looks of the guy?_

Their kissing led to a bit of touching, nothing too over the top, sides of the chest with the pads of the thumb wandering slightly.. that sort of thing.

Next thing you know.. they're gathering their coats and making to leave-together.

_Hmm..don't think so._

The two were chatting animatedly, faces flushed, exchanging desirous glances..and were almost to the door to leave and apparate into the night when a dark figure stepped in their path.

The man immediately tensed.

_Good_

Susan immediately started to complain... "Oh for the love of..."

_Also good_

"Going somewhere?" Wraith asked knowingly. It was obvious by his body language that he knew the answer.. and didn't agree with it.

"Not that it's any of your concern?" the man immediately snapped out sarcastically, puffing up his chest. His supposed _Alpha_ was wanting to mark its territory and Wraith was apparently in it.

Wraith smiled and Susan shuddered. She couldn't know for sure, but she suspected this was the look he had on his face when he was goading the dark lord during their duel.

"Actually it is." he returned with cool detachment, ignoring the man and focusing his attention on Susan.

"It's going 2am. The clubs will be closing and you are to return to home at that time as agreed upon between ourselves in conjunction with other party's wishes." he reminded Susan, careful to leave her aunt's identity out of things. The less anyone knew just who Susan was, the better.

"We're just going for a quick bite and then,.. who knows."Susan returned facetiously. She was intentionally trying to not only be difficult, but see if she could make him uncomfortable as well.

"Negative"

"Look pal.." her escort began in a challenging tone as his wand came into his hand and started ascending towards Wraith's seemingly unguarded chest. "What the lady and I get up to is our business, not some git with babysitter delusions- Hey!"

Wraith's left hand shot out and slapped away the wand before it could come to bear. It spun away harmlessly , it's impotent sparks blending with club's flashing lights.

An outraged fist came next, though Wraith's eyes remained fixed on Susan smug, defiant ones.

His left hand shot out, again, deflecting the blow as his hand continued toward the man's exposed throat and latched on like a steel clamp.

"UrK...!" hands flailed and pulled at his choking hand with as much success as a child trying to remove a parent's restraining grasp.

His blood supply to his brain cut off, the man began to gape and droll as his thrashing became more desperate to break free.

Wraith took no more notice of his feeble attempts than if he were a mild breeze.

"This is not a game, Susan. I am not a child on a play ground, nor am I a rival for your affections.

Magic swirled around them like a maelstrom of heat and color that blended with the club's lights until the area was a blinding array that dazzled the eyes. People gasped and pulled away from the area giving the two a wide birth.

"I cannot be intimidated." For emphasis he shifted his eyes meaningfully toward the man he held by the neck who was purpling and was barely able to draw a shrill gasp let alone mount any effective defense having succumbed to the inevitable.

Wraith threw him aside like a spent gum wrapper. The poor sod heaved a gasp, choking and gagging as he struggled to get air in faster than his lungs could refill.

"I will not renege on a bargain; neither will I allow renegotiation once a deal has been mutually agreed upon. I do not give second chances, Ms. Bones."

At this Susan's demeanor abruptly shifted to one of smug retribution and she thought to press her point sarcastically by reminding him that, "You did for the dark lord."

"Come again?" he asked, caught off guard for more reasons than she could possibly imagine.

"When your team, when you fought him the other night, didn't you do just that, give him a second chance? He was wounded and you let him get away rather than kill him when you arguably had the chance. Wasn't that in essence.. _giving him a second chance_?"

She expected to see shock or even embarrassment mirrored in his eyes as she stared self riotously into them.

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul; Susan Bones began to understand the true beginnings of that statement when she looked deeply into Wraith's eyes and what she saw therein broke her heart. There was a depth of sorrow there that was terrifying, but deeper still there was defiance and a hidden knowledge that made her regret her recrimination to the depths of her being.

She had crossed a line that she hadn't known existed, but should have. Had her aunt not told her many times that there were many things that people didn't , couldn't know existed not just for their own safety, but for the safety of untold others.

Despite that, here she was effectively slapping the face of a man who had saved hers and her aunt's lives at the potential cost of his own and perhaps his entire team's as well.

She shuddered at that, thinking she could feel no more low and unworthy.

She was wrong.

Wraith's eyes closed off from expressive to hard and cool with a pronounced professional detachment that she had fervently hope that they had progressed beyond.

"I.. am..through.. here." he drawled out pointedly. He grabbed up her trembling arm and side along apparated them to the family room of the Bone's mansion.

He immediately released her arm and left her trembling and alone as he adjourned to his guest room without the slightest acknowledgement of her presence.

It was worse than a slap to the face. It was his way of stating, without having said a single word that she was beneath even the slight consideration of simple courtesy.

She wasn't sure how long she had stood there in self loathing; half for what she had said and done at his expense, but also in the realization that the wizard she had wistfully considered spending the night with,; she had done so more out of spite for Wraith than for any real affection for the wizard who'd suffered by her hormonal attentions.

Woodenly, she had at some point, made her way to her own room and slipped beneath the comforter of her bed falling eventually falling into a fitful sleep.

Unceremoniously the curtains of her room had been drawn back, by her incensed aunt, and the bright morning sun brought her instantly awake.

Her aunt impatiently showed her a modicum of restraint by allowing her to rub the sleep from her eyes and orient herself before she asked caustically, "What happened last night?"

Enjoying the close relationship that they did and with it knowing exactly what her aunt was referring to; she dully repeated the events of the previous evening verbatim. She told her aunt exactly what she'd said and even why, _truthfully why_, she'd said what she had.

If it was one thing she always admired her aunt for it was the art of being able to punish her without punishing her. With a look of utter disappointment; her aunt could make her feel far worse than any punishment ever could.

Aunt Amelia wore that look now. "He's leaving." She said flatly, her own tone reflected the intense disappointment she had for said decision.

Susan's eyes fell shamefaced to the floor of her room as her aunt's thoughts on the matter washed over her.

"He did not want this assignment, not by any stretch of the imagination did he want this assignment. But he took it. He obeyed the wishes of his superiors and took this assignment. By all accounts he's made the best of things and has not only secured our home but has even taken things beyond the pale and instructed us in our own self defense. The value of said instruction is obvious alone by the overall improvement of your abilities and grades, per your own instructor's feedback on the matter.

That said, he still did not want this assignment, prior to today or even more so-now. He stayed and rose to the occasion because of the man he is and because he values both mine and his commander's opinions.

Today I am ashamed for having imposed myself contrary to his personal wishes, even though I did so out of a mother's desperation to protect her child at any and all costs."

"I-I'm... s-sorry." Susan managed to snuffle out dejectedly, her tears evidenced as they fell to the floor she was fixated upon. She couldn't bear to look up and see the disappointment in her aunt's eyes.

Her aunt neither accepted nor condemned her apology, she merely changed tact with a true politician's skill.

"Christmas is almost upon us. We and all our friends have always enjoyed this solemn holiday reveling in all that it embodies. I had hoped to share our home and collective heart with him, as well, this holiday." There was an air of longing in her voice at this.

"A-At least he'll be able to share it with his own family now." Susan assumed dolefully.

If she had looked up she would have saw her own aunt shudder at this and how close he once had come to doing just that. It was not lost on her how history was repeating itself in some measure between him and Susan.

"I wish that that were true, but he has no family to spend said holiday with." She left out that he would gladly spend his time with his comrades as they were a family in and of themselves, but this year she had hoped for something more.

Susan's shoulders trembled violently as racking sobs of grief and despair blinded her to all else.

The minister in her wanted badly to let Susan reap what she had sown, but the surrogate mother in her could not let it be so.

She sat down on Susan's bed and pulled her sobbing face to her shoulder, cooing gently to the stricken girl as she rubbed her arms and back supportively.

An hour later the two were calming their jangled nerves over a cup of tea in the solarium. Susan's mug was largely left untouched she starred out the window watching the two make their why along, strolling aimlessly in the gently swirling "first snow" of the season.

Of all people she would expected another unspeakable, not Minerva McGonagal to appear as a liaison in her aunt's and her behalf. Her aunt assured her repeatedly that Minerva was exactly who they needed for so delicate an undertaking.

Part of her hoped that she was successful; in that she could convince their bodyguard to remain. Part of her wished fervently that she was unsuccessful as it would then be beholden of her to try and make amends between them two.

"Amelia, Lewis and I walked these gardens many times in our youth. They're lovely in the summer, but I've always fancied a walk during a lovely snowfall like this." she commented wistfully, not fooling him for a minute as to her veiled intentions, though she was right: it was strangely calming and refreshing.

With that in mind he politely grunted his agreement.

"We were our generation's trio though we lacked the adventures you and your cohorts found yourselves embroiled in time and again.

"If not for Hermione 's influence and intellect, Ron and I would have gotten ourselves killed ages ago. She could always reel us in when we needed it."

"Ronald had his finer points to." she reminded him.

He nodded. "Ron was the motivater and strategist, though he too had his moments of brilliance." He added appreciatively.

Minerva nodded her head in agreement adding a bit of insight. "You'd hardly know him now. When he isn't playing to his first love, (quidditch), than he's studying with his second,(Hermione). They'll both graduate University early at the pace they're going; Hermione with a double major in law and political science and Ron too will have a law degree. They'll know doubt go into practice together once he's done with quidditch. Molly is ever so proud."

He nodded at the update, though he wasn't entirely surprised by their mutual success. Ron had as much ambition beneath the surface as Hermione radiated outwardly. They were good for each other,.. for the most part.

"Are they still at each other's throats?" he asked witha chuckle

Minerva smirked. "Worse than ever, but now it's more of an intellectual debate. I think they just enjoy winding each other up, though I can't fathom why as they're made for each other."

"It's foreplay for the two of them." he replied smartly, enjoying the way her gate hitched and she colored slightly despite her years and swatted his arm playfully.

"I'm glad they're happy." he assumed, sighing contently though it was mixed with a dash of regret.

"I never said they were happy." Minerva clarified and this time it was his gait that hitched slightly.

"They're coping, just doing the best with what they have left. Ginevra and Neville are the same. The loss of Luna hit them hard, but it's your absence that's the deep, festering wound that has never quite healed." At this pronouncement she dabbed her eyes with a linen handkerchief. It was the same she'd soaked with tears when he'd... departed. Unconsciously, she'd always seemed to have it to hand when dealing with her dearest cub. Many students and faculty alike always considered Hermione her personal favorite. They all had their favorites among the student population. They weren't supposed to, but they did.

Hers' had always been Harry and it always would be. He was a rascal like his father, but he had Lily's kind and gentle nature too. His friendship with Luna alone was evidence of that. He had the ability to see people for what and who they really are- and appreciate them for it.

Luna had known, without any way to know, that he was still alive. She never betrayed the knowledge of such until the day she died, at least not in any fashion that anyone could readily understand, thinking she was just making loony comments again.

Despite all, Minerva believed that Luna had died content. She had reunited with her missing friend and in appreciation she had left the clue of his continued survival for the world to see. Not for any smug self satisfaction at her insight, but to give others hope. Hope that Harry was still here, still championing the light's cause.

_Death shall have no dominion over the stout hearted._

When Luna had made the arrangements to have that epitaph inscribed upon her headstone, she couldn't guess. But as in all things Luna related, she'd known her death was approaching and she had left them with a message of hope if they only used their hearts instead of their eyes to feel the message of those words.

Lewis had worried, albeit needlessly, that Hermione Granger would divine the message in those words. Clever witch that she was, the message was lost on her as it was too abstract for her to grasp.

No, Ron was the one she had her money on. Ron was the part of the trio that saw things more with his heart than his head.

"They'll get over it in time." he suggested, pulling her from her wishful thoughts. "They'll move on eventually and find contentment. ''

"Contentment and happiness is not quite the same thing, Harold." she admonished pointedly, but not harshly.

He stiffened slightly beneath her hand, that was curled around his arm, at the use of his true, given name, but he did not object as they were quite alone and that was a battle even he did not wish to wage again. He'd learned over time to only fight the fights that he could actually win.

"No,.. no it's not." he offered meekly. "But it's all that's possible." There was no going back. Not without endangering them needlessly and risking the ruin of their society as a whole. He was as trapped in that responsibility as he was in a body that was not his own.

"Is it? Is it truly all that's possible?" Minerva question facetiously, obviously not wholly agreeing with his viewpoint as she once might have.

"You have a chance to have and make something of your own here, though you seem to thick to realize it."

"I..I don't know.. what you..mean?" he struggled cautiously.

"Don't you?" she returned incredulously. "Are you wanting to transfer from this assignment because you are not needed,.. **or**... because you are?"

Her words tore through his defenses and left him shivering in the cold like a naked child far from home.


	6. Chapter 6: A walk in the snow

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Chapter Six: A walk in the snow.**

Christmas Eve was upon the Bones mansion and with it the festivity of the holiday was in full swing, sans a member of one she considered family, in exchange for another who already was in Amelia Bones' book.

Wraith was gone and in his place this night was his superior: Dragon, as he would leave the responsibility for their protection in no one else hands... or so he protested.

The fact that he was guarding Amelia's body was a matter of complete indifference to the consummate professional-right.

Just as Amelia saw him only as their professional security-HAH!

Wraith had begrudgingly agreed to stay on with them in a limited capacity though the holidays, but after the first of the year he expected to rejoin his team. His only concession was that he asked to be relieved Christmas Eve- for personal reasons.

What those reasons were, Amelia couldn't fathom, but they were contrary to her own hopes that he would remain with the family, as a part of the family, throughout the holiday. She had, unfortunately, given in to her curiosity and asked Lewis if he knew what Wraith's plans for the evening were.

Lewis Croaker was not a man given to drama, but at Amelia's query he pulled a face of disappointment that was actually painful in its connotations.

"What.. what is it..What's wrong?" Amelia asked worriedly, the mulled wine she had been enjoying was set aside and instantly forgotten.

It was a long time before his cryptic answer came. "H-He's going to see... them."

"Who?" Amelia asked cautiously, realizing that she was missing something important.

"The rest of the ministry six, or .. **five** rather." he pulled another face of grief at the loss of Luna from their ranks, now leaving only five left of the original six.

Amelia shuddered slightly at that. "H-He's kept in contact then?"

Lew shook his head negatively. "No,.." he assuaged her fears, but what he said next made her all the more apprehensive. ".. he daren't risk it, but he goes... every year to look in on them. Part of him is hoping they will have moved on, and another part, though he will never admit to such, another part is desperately afraid they will have.

They won't know he's there, watching,.. out in the cold,... it's all he can offer by way of his undying love for his friends. He goes out wearing his father's invisibility cloak, it's all he has left of his family that survived the... you know? His Firebolt; a gift from his godfather, did not survive the fall.

He wears the cloak and he looks in on them; to reassure himself that they are alright. It's a sad, painful thing, but..."

"But it's that touching too." Amelia sighed in understanding. Lewis nodded, surreptitiously wiping at his eyes.

"Oh,.. Lewis,.. this has to stop. He deserves better than this." she struggled helplessly with her conviction.

Lew took her hand in his comfortingly. "We're going after the cup soon, after that there's just the snake and then the bastard will be put down like the rabid dog he is. After that maybe,.. maybe we can salvage something of what was. As much as he's a part of us, there's still a part of his heart that aches for them, Amy."

Amy nodded at that before pivoting her head slightly toward the stair that led to Susan's room as she commented... "Maybe not just them?"

Susan had kept a close eye on Wraith all afternoon and something wasn't right. He's smiles were just a little too forced as he readily joined in to help decorate this year's tree. Every once in a while she thought she saw an unguarded moment when he would cast a painful glance out the window as if searching for something in the distance.

Then, when his commander arrived to relieve him, there had been the oddest of exchanges between the two. Though there was a privacy charm surrounding the two, she could readily tell that his commander went through a variety of emotions and was nearly begging him at the end, having finally lost patience with the point of their disagreement and conceding defeat.

He canceled the charm and the two shook hands wishing each other a "Merry Christmas".

The Dragon made a last pitch to try and get his subordinate to make an effort to join them "later", though his eyes held little hope for it.

Susan wanted to try and follow Wraith hoping to further unravel the mystery of one who was gave a whole new meaning to the "Dept. of Mysteries". She gave that up as a lost cause, appreciating the wisdom of Wraith's commander in that it would be a futile effort. She knew from experience that if Wraith wanted something kept confidential- it would remain so.

She could no more track the man then she could one particular snowflake during a snowstorm.

She stepped toward the two as they made their goodbyes, hoping to bid him a farewell and wish of a "Merry Christmas", herself, but he turned and apparated away before she could so much as clear her throat to announce her intention.

She turned confused eyes toward his commander, but the man just waved off her concerns and greeted her warmly inquiring politely into her own holiday plans.

Unlike most Christams' she usually spent the entire eve and day with her family and the Abbots, reserving Boxing Day for get-togethers with close friends.

This year would mark the first in memory that she would be spending part of the eve with friends. Hermione and Neville had invited her and Hanna to the Weasley's. They had remained tightlipped over the importance of said invitation, promising only that it was to be a "special occasion" and they wanted all their friends together for it.

She and Hanna were arriving early in order to get a good sampling of Molly Weasley's exquisite cooking. They had to come early before her youngest son annihilated the choicest entrées.

* * *

The snow crunched beneath his feet alerting him that he had yet to cast a silencing charm, which he did followed by a masking charm that erased his footprints as he made them. Between his father's invisibility cloak and the charm he'd already cast, he was as discrete as humanly possible, which was saying something for a life already shrouded in secrecy.

He visited his parents and Sirius' graves just as he did every year. He never said anything to them. What was there to say?

He had no defense for his actions, therefore he offered no excuses. His parents and Godfather had sacrificed their very lives for his and he had repaid them by having tried to take his own life in a moment of despair.

It was poor recompense for such a high initial price having been paid.

He couldn't know if they were proud of the choices he made since, but he doubted it. It was times like this when he was faced with his own mortality that he became the most thoughtful.

He usually never dwelled on maybes and what ifs, but this always seemed the proper time for it, if there was such a thing.

He wondered, as he usually did, what the future might hold for him?

Would he survive the coming confrontation with his nemesis?

Would he one day have a wife and children of his own?

Would he remain an Unspeakable.

And last, but surely not least... would he, reunite with his once friends or remain incognito?

The answer to the first question was easy and yet not so. Would he survive? Probably not.

Wife and children? Who would marry a ghost? That's what he essentially is... a **ghost** stuck in another body. Any children he might have would not be Potters. He was the last Potter, but he could hardly pass on those self same genes.

They would not have his father's messy hair or his mother's expressive green eyes.

The goblins still recognized him as surviving; evidenced by his open account. The contents in the Potter vaults had been transferred to his current identity. A fake will having been read and the contents of his personal account was bequeathed amongst his close friends. It was not an unsubstantial amount, therefore it drew no unwanted interest as the Potter accounts had been considered drained from the first war effort. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

He pondered if he would remain an Unspeakable. The answer to which was- probably. What else would he or could he do and remain anonymous?

Sighing in resolution, he apparated away from the gravesite, not even bothering to so much as leave a flower in remembrance as that might potentially alert other parties and raise unwanted curiosity.

He knew Remus Lupin would be along any minute and couldn't risk exposure. It was a matter of some mixed emotions that even poor Remus was not kept in the loop to his continued existence. First and foremost; Remus' tragic appearance helped immensely to solidify the fact of his hated that. He hated it even more so because it was one of Dumbledore's suggestions' or should he say manipulations? For that was what it essentially was. They were using Remus' grief to potentiate the could be no forgiveness for that. Should he choose one day to announce his survival, he would not seek could he possibly look Remus in the eye and ask his forgiveness for something of this magnitude?

Bottom line- he couldn't as he could not forgive himself for it, it was pointless to ask Remus to do so.

Remus had moved on and he was that happy for him. He'd taken solace with the incomparable Nymphadora Tonks and she had made a new man of him. Often times Dora accompanied him on his yearly vigil, the last such he'd spotted her carrying their newborn in her arms.

He'd learned through the Ministry grapevine that the auror and her _husband_ had chosen the name of "Lily" for their daughter.

More shame upon him in that.

No,.. there could be no forgiveness.

He left the graveyard and decided he'd forgo his stop at St. Timothy's until later, considering that he'd catch the midnight mass this year as he usually did.

He silently arrived outside the Burrow's wards, deciding not to tempt fate. Every year he found it passing strange that the ward's still accepted his magical signature.

The family had never removed Harry Potter's magical signature from the ward scheme. He marveled at this along with the fact alone that the wards still recognized him as: Harry Potter.

Genes were one thing, but apparently magic was another. He still carried his own magical core within himself and apparently that was all that mattered to the wards.

Who, or what he had become made no difference as magic, itself, still recognized him as Harry Potter.

Loud celebratory noises from within the Burrow distracted him from his melancholy musings. Toasts were being made, backs slapped, hugs and kisses exchanged and at the center of it all stood a beaming Neville Logbottom with a positively glowing Ginny Weasly wrapped around his arm. The two shared adoring glances between well wishers.

He smiled beneath his cloak_. Good on you, Nev. She's a keeper_.

He didn't need to hear exactly what was being said to know that this year's Christmas Eve had become an engagement party.

He changed his vantage point to the living room window on the north side of the home.

In the background he could see the well wishers crowding around the happy couple, but in the foreground? A crying Hermione was being comforted by Ron as they murmured softly to each other, admiring the family Christmas tree.

_Damn._

He knew what it was that Hermione had spied within the tree- his picture. Every year since that year, Molly Weasley had placed a small, but significant ornament, (that displayed his picture), on the family tree.

Every year, if he watched long enough, Hermione found her way into the room and broke down in tears.

Merlin, he felt low.

Every year he hoped that things might be different and every year she proved his hopes invalid.

The reason he felt low was that he couldn't help but feel some sense of satisfaction, however pathetic that might be.

Hermione's steadfast affection inevitably renewed his sense of being. He had been something to someone at one time.

He had mattered. However fleetingly, he had mattered to someone.

Grimly, he considered that between what he unintentionally did to Remus and Hermione; for that alone he deserved hell as his just reward.

More so when he considered whether or not it was- _unintentionally_?

True, he had the means to remove their grief, perhaps replacing it with justified anger.

The question of such was – at what cost?

His continued survival would, in all likelihood, increase their personal risk astronomically.

Voldemort would waste little time in exploiting their feelings for him and his for them in return.

All would come to ruin.

It was these regrets that usually led him full circle in that should he survive, perhaps it would be best to remain anonymous?

POP...POP...POP...POP...POP...POP

_UH-OH_

The sound of incoming apparitions along the ward line alerted him that others, with a less benign interest in this year's proceedings, had arrived.

Instinctively he knew it was unlikely that a group of Unspeakables had come to gather him for a night on the town.

He snorted appreciatively at that. More so because it was not completely out of the realm of possibility.

Once, a few years past, his team had done just that. Though initially angry with them, he ended up being truly touched by their warm intent.

_Yet another reason to maintain the status quo._

The fact that so many had arrived, coupled with the way the wards intensified to staggering proportions told him these were not your _usual, every day _"party poopers".

He had no doubt that they were poop though. By that he meant they were not your _usual_, _everyday_ type of shite.

These were the worst sort of shits imaginable, save one.

_Maybe if he was "naughty boy" this year, Santa would send him the king turd of all shits to play with?_

That thought warmed the heart.

He briefly considered that he should warn the Unspeakables, or at least the Aurors at the very least, but there was only six of them by his accounting.

He figured it would take about twenty plus minutes for the usual idiots to get through the Burrow's ward scheme which would be ample time for those inside to apparate and floo away to safety.

The prickling sensation of anit apparition and anti floo wards going up alerted him that these were not the _usual, every day_ idiots that Voldie employed.

At least he was thoughtful enough to send the best. Though, of course, Vodie's best were everyone else's _usual, every day_- shite.

_Hmm, since no one's leaving including yours truly, better go with Plan-B._

Wraith quickly conjured a bit of parchment and a pen-(_quills suck!). _He wrote a quick note and transformed into his animagus form of a large Barn Owl.

Scooping said note into his beak he flew to the Burrow's widows and pecked at the sill until noticed and let in.

Flying to the back of a nearby chair, he perched himself and proffered said note to the first person available.

_Figures it'd be Hermione._

She apprehensively removed the note with a slightly trembling hand and read quickly before repeating out loud to the waiting party goers.

"Please remain calm and stay inside. Group of Death Eaters attempting to breech your home's wards. There's an Unspeakable on grounds assessing situation. Lock and charm doors and windows_ unbreakable_ once owl leaves premises. Unspeakable on sight will eliminate all enemy personnel."

"Unspeakable? You mean Unspeakables-right?" Ron corrected, catching the singular.

Hermione shook her head. "No.. the note says Unspeakable, as in one. I thought it a typo but the description was used twice in the message and both times it's as the singular. Ron rolled his eyes, not noticing the owl ruffling it's feathers in indignation.

"Who signed it..OH?" Susan gasped as she stepped around Ron's shoulders and recognized the owl.

_Wraith_

The owl blinked at her in what could almost be considered a cheeky sort of wink.

"Do you know this owl's owner?" Hermione caught Susan's reaction.

Susan nodded absently. "He's a, er.. _difficult man_." she offered vaguely.

The owl ruffled it's feathers again.

"But capable" she quickly amended. "Very capable."

The owl clicked its beak almost smugly, if such a thing was even possible.

Susan had to fight the urge to keep from sticking her tongue out, knowing that, satisfying though it might be, it would give him away.

"I think we should trust it, er.. him" she suggested, trying to look anywhere but at the owl.

Hermione nodded. She held out her forearm and the owl hopped on. Hermione stroked his chest feathers commenting sweetly.. "My you're a handsome fellow aren't you?" The owl puffed himself up proudly, taking a moment to pivot his head toward Susan, before turning back and purring appreciatively to Hermione's ministrations.

Susan could actually see the gloat in the damn thing's face and it was all she could do not to pull her wand out and hex the insufferable man.

Hermione launched the owl into the night and quickly closed the window after, both locking and charming it as instructed. The rest of the party crowd immediately set about doing the same, not needing to be told twice.

They were about to find out that the _party_ was only just starting.

Harry flew up onto the pitch of the Burrow's many storied roof remaining in his owl form to utilize its advantageous sight.

An unsettling thought had occurred and he wanted to confirm the sinking feeling he had in his qut.

_Why would Voldemort send a mere six Death Eaters to a party that was sure to be rife with many in the opposition, namely; The Order of the Phoenix?_

Not only had he sent seemingly only six low level Death Eaters, but from the way they so blatantly announced their presence things didn't add up.

If Voldemort hit, he hit hard and fast with little to no warning thereby maximizing potential destruction and the spread of terror.

_Bottom line- he wouldn't_.

The six he'd noted at the property line were a ruse, but for whom?

His advanced vision and _bird's eye view_ afforded him a much more in depth reconnaissance capability.

What he noticed was troubling, what he couldn't, but suspected, was even more so.

What he noticed was that the six at the property line moved and talked aloud like rank amateurs, but their actions belied their acting. They knew what they were about.

These six were experienced warders and were working harmoniously to bring down the Burrow's warding system which was quite extensive; no doubt due to Bill Weasley's talents.

Voldemort's ward experts were utilized solely for just that: setting up and breaking down ward systems. They weren't the cannon fodder of low level Death Eaters, nor were they the villainous scum that his inner circle members were ie.. torturers, rapists and murderers A.K.A- Pure blood bigots.

Harry meticulously scanned the property line in all directions , but even his night predator's advanced eyesight could discern nothing other than the ward breakers scattered about the edge of the ward line.

There weren't even any telltale tracks in the snow other than the warder's own.

Not liking the feeling he was getting, he transformed back to human form and cast a heat vision spell over his human eyes. It was a little something of his devise inspired by his parselmouth ability.

Snakes saw in heat vision. You can hide under invisibility cloaks and disillusionment charms and such, but one usually didn't consider their own body heat as a source of identity.

He scanned the perimeter again.

_UH-OH_

The joint was lousy with disillusioned Death Eaters spread out equidistantly in groups of three around the ward perimeter.

This was a full scaled assault and one that was well thought out. The disillusioned Death Eaters were undoubtedly under silencing charms and employing masking charms to cover their foot tracks on the snowy ground.

The fact that there were no dark creatures in the mix only served to raise his hackles as they were obviously planning a stealthy attack and wholesale slaughter their intended outcome.

The obvious Death Eaters at the property line were a diversion, bait if you will. They were designed to lower the wards and draw the partygoers outside the safety of the Burrow, believing them an easy target.

The guest would find themselves in the cross hairs of dozens of hidden Death Eaters.

He scanned the line meticulously taking a head count.

Forty-two, not including the six warders who no doubt also served as reconnoiters and medics once the battle/slaughter was engaged.

Forty-two was too damn many even with the aid of every Order member within the Burrow.

He would need at least three, better five search and destroy teams of Unspeakables and even then the outcome wasn't assured to go in their favor.

That sinking feeling in his gut deepened as he considered that despite the odds this probably wasn't the only target on Voldie's radar tonight.

He was living, _well- sort of living_, proof that Voldie was historically a big fan of attacking select targets over the holidays.

He had little doubt that the failed attempt to eliminate the Minister was still sticking in his craw, especially in view of the fact that it was **his** failed attempt.

The fact that he was maimed in said failed attempt by yours truly was just more fuel to the fire.

The prickling sensation of another wave of magic falling around him told him he had at best another five minutes before the wards fell altogether and the fun started.

He needed aid but with the floo and anti-apparation wards up they couldn't get a message out accept for patronus and they weren't much faster than owls.

_Help wasn't coming._

_Alright then, Plan C._

He would need to even the playing field and to do that he needed to hit them where they were vulnerable and in sufficient numbers to give him... _I've got it!_

_Thank, Merlin for the Dragon's knowledge of ancient battles and his endless droning on over such._

Another ward fell, sending him scurrying into action.

He transformed to his animagus, flew down to the front door, retransformed and knocked urgently, announcing himself: "Unspeakable Wraith, I urgently acquire your assistance."

There was murmuring exchanged before cautiously, Susan Bones' voice called out. "How do we know it's you?

_Smart girl._

"You used to like blue berry pancakes for breakfast." He returned dead pan with a churlish grin on his hidden face.

The door abruptly opened at that and Susan's worried face was there along with many others who came anxiously into the room as he entered.

Without preamble he told them exactly what he needed and how desperately fast he needed it.

Hermione, of course, pulled a face and asked incredulously, starting with the obvious. "We need reinforcements and a lot of them. What do you think you're going to accomplish with a bunch of broken glass?"

"Not broken- crushed to a powder; four large bags worth-NOW!" he barked as another ward fell indicated by an alarm ringing ominously within the Burrow.

Glassware was emptied from shelves and hexed to less than small shards and slivers whilst Mrs. Weasley shrieked and whimpered as family stemware was pulverized and bagged up for the waiting Unspeakable.

"Can I help you?" Susan asked uncertainly, chancing to grasp his forearm in a display of sincerity.

His arm stiffened beneath the contact, but he didn't remove it from her grasp as he pondered her offer.

He didn't have long to consider before many others stepped forward offering the same as wands came readily to hand.

"T-Thank you- no. All of you.. t-thank you." he refused gratefully. They could tell by the surprise in his voice that he was unused to being offered or even needing assistance in the first place.

Susan made to pull her hand away from his arm, but he caught in his gloved hand, holding it gently for a second.

His shrouded hood held her gaze and in that moment she wished she could see his eyes, his real eyes.

"I-If I don't make... anyway,.. Merry Christmas, Susan." With that he hastily grabbed up the bags of powdered glass and turned toward the door instructing as he went. "Seal every gap of air. If someone other than myself comes knocking-Don't answer! If they come in uninvited-Cut them down without mercy!"

He transformed into his owl form and set off for the north side of the property line with one bag held in his talons. Once he was on top of the ward line he lanced open the bag with a razor sharp talon and dropped the contents over the area like a crop duster dropping pesticide.

For all intents and purposes that was exactly what he was doing. He was dropping poison to rid themselves of pests.

The hidden Death Eaters would be cloaked in battle robes and masks; some even would have on Dragon hide armor under their robes for extra protection. The only vulnerability their garb afforded was the holes in their mask for their eyes to see and mouth for breathing.

Gravity and the swirling winds around the property would do his work for him and deliver the deadly shards to the Death Eaters eyes and lungs. If they weren't blinded outright, the shards they sucked into their lungs would do their deadly work; slowly, torturously wending their way through the blood stream, tearing up veins, lodging in the heart and brain.

Blindness, internal bleeding, cascade organ failures... and all of it in pain beyond imagining.

Their suffering would be ghastly to behold. Their injuries many and nigh impossible to heal as by the time healers figured out what was wrong it would be far too late to do anything but ply them with copious amounts of pain killers to try and make their ends more endurable.

Perhaps even the _killing curse_ would be applied for its original intention: _to provide a humane end to suffering_.

These morbid thoughts ran through his mind when he'd decided upon this course of action. He didn't relish this course of action and did not embark upon it lightly. This was by no means an honorable choice for battle such as a duel where skill, intellect and courage alone would decide one's fate.

This was an unseen and unforgiving measure that what as cruel as a _cruciatus_, only ultimately more devastating and debilitating.

The thought that he could do this sickened him, but in the greater scheme of things he had little choice. Either he was ruthless and debilitated the enemy in its entirety, or they would slaughter his once friends to a man.

He landed on the roof top and transformed back into his human form after having airily delivered the contents of the fourth and final bag of crushed death. He immediately conjured a breathing mask and goggles for his eyes just to be on the safe side. Though he had delivered airborne death some hundreds of meters out, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Not that some part of him didn't consider he deserved the same fate as what he'd wrought upon the opposition.

The wards had fallen shortly before he'd made the roof top and they would becoming now.. if they were able?

He cast the heat vision charm over the lens of his goggles and distant man-sized heat signatures blurred into view.

The instant the wards were down they came in slowly, stealthily in groups of three. Wending their way around trees and shrubs mindful of any alarms or pitfalls as they continually cast revealing spells on the ground ahead.

Normally he would have gone out and tried to eliminate as many as he could before they broke through to their objective, but for this particular measure, patience was the rule of thumb.

All he needed was bit of time for the glass the shards to find their way into sensitive, vulnerable areas.

Wraith raised his wand toward the north tree line of the lawn, preparing to cast a barrage of blasting hexes as the first of many assailants broke through the woods and into the open lawn.

The woods themselves would lend to his purpose as wood splinters could prove as deadly as the sharpest knives.

The hex was on his lips and the tip of his wand began to glow in anticipation to release fury when several of the heat signatures faltered.

Then it began. Cries of alarm became shrieks of terror and anguish.

Hands tore at masks and clawed at eyes. Horrific coughing and gagging filled the night air as many disillusioned Death Eaters revealed themselves where they spat up bloody froth upon themselves, their fellows and the ground they soon fell to.

Some port keyed away in outright panic. Other's shot all manner of curses and hexes into their surroundings believing they'd been cursed and were desperate to remove the perpetrator, thereby canceling the spell that was clawing its way through their very insides.

The green light of a killing curse shot past his left ear, not that Wraith noticed as he was paralyzed with morbid curiosity as Death Eater cries became more desperate and pain filled.

Many called out piteously for help. Some surrendered and through their wands to the ground, following shortly themselves as they thrashed about in the snow shrieking and moaning as glass shards tore through their lungs and veins.

Thankfully many passed out, the maddening pain overwhelming their senses. Others ran into the night, blindly running into trees and breaking limbs or knocking themselves out in their blind, panicked flight.

One such slammed his head repeatedly against the trunk of a tree. He'd rather dash his brains out than suffer any further torment.

Another had torn his very eyes from his head to rid himself of the unrelenting pain.

Twenty minutes. Not twenty minutes had passed since the first horrified cry split the cool night air. Now all that remained was a few pitiful wrecks twisting and writhing upon the blood stained snow.

Many had fled, either stumbling lost and panicked into the night or having port keyed away to seek aid. They would fare no better than those that shuddered and eventually stilled upon the Burrow's lawns.

Absently he counted them,..twenty-six... twenty-six of the enemy lay dead or dying. If they didn't die, they would be disabled permanently to the end of their days.

It was a ghastly, dreadful thing he'd done; albeit desperate and needful, but ghastly just the same.

He couldn't remember having used his animagus form to vacate the roof. He wouldn't have been surprised if he'd unknowing walked right off the edge.

Woodenly he knocked at the front door and called out his name, adding... "Susan... has a silver sequined blue dress that looks smashing on her and highlights her eyes."

He never registered the embarrassed gasp from behind the door as he was concerned with casting a repelling charm over the door way that he keyed toward-glass.

The door opened and many frightened and concerned faces swam into view.

"Your floo?" he half inquired only in passing as he shuffled toward the fireplace as if he knew the way already.

He didn't bother to check and see if the anti-floo, anti-apparation wards were down, knowing they would be as those that had cast them were dead, dying or fled and their wards with them.

A pinch of floo powder and... "Hall of Mysteries. Wraith here... send clean up team and healer squad to this location. All personal to wear breathers and eye protection. Area saturated with crushed glass particles."

"Confirmed Wraith. Number of casualties?"

"T-Twenty-six." He gasped tremulously, trying and failing to ignore the startled gasps at this from the background. Many of the females present sought solace in the arms of their male counterparts, others wept bitterly, all having witnessed the utter destruction through the Burrow's windows.

"T-Twenty-six?" the man questioned,sounding stunned.

"Twenty- six- confirmed." He acknowledged, forcing himself to remain professionally detached in spite of the scrutinizing eyes weighing on him.

"Monitor St. Mungo's for similar casualties and confirm presence of dark mark on afflicted."

"Acknowledged. Injuries?"

"Negative" more gasps sounded behind him at that.

"Debrief in one hour."

"Acknowledged- Wraith over." He terminated the floo connection, grasping the mantel to steady himself before he turned toward those waiting pensively behind.

All wore varying degrees of concern or outright alarm,.. and all of them he knew upon a time and would have craved their comfort and understanding. Part of him still did. Another part could care less or was even indignant in the face of them judging him when they were all still alive and unharmed when they could just as easily have been annihilated.

He stood up straight and in a dignified voice informed them."The danger has passed. Please remain inside until given the "all clear" from the clean up team in route. I...I'm sorry for having disrupted your c-celebration." That said he woodenly made his way past the stunned gathering and apparated away into the night the moment he stepped upon the threshold of the door, avoiding another glance at the wholesale destruction he'd brought.

An hour came and passed with Wraith reporting in for debriefing of the night's events and then leaving without further comment or preamble, having found out initially that there were no more reported attacks. Concerned hails over the com link that evening, to ascertain his current status, went unanswered. His personal tracker was not registering and was obviously disabled, breaking one of their primary safety edicts.

At eleven pm, four hours after the one sided battle occurred, the Dragon was notified regarding the night's occurrence by the officer on duty. Normally he would be advised of such activities at a respectable hour

Pale faced and stunned, he turned toward his hostess who'd been privy to his communication.

"T-Thirty four...?" Amelia gasped in disbelief.

"Thirty four confirmed dead and two more in intensive care, one's not expected to live the night. Three permanently disabled- blind." Lew pulled a painful grimace at that last. Stiffly he poured himself several fingers worth of brandy and another, almost as generous a help he proffered to Amelia, who gratefully accepted the glass. She downed half the contents in a go, sighed half appreciatively and half regretfully after.

Although any given day such news would be welcome, it was at least that devastating too. It was simply unimaginable.. thirty-four Death Eaters dead without a single casualty of their own?

By one man?!

"D..Do you think he's alright?' she asked apprehensively.

"No.." at seeing her startle, he quickly amended. "I don't think he's hurt- physically,.. but I doubt very much that he's alright. He's either out getting blind staggering drunk- which I doubt. Or...?" he left off worriedly.

"Or?" Amelia fidgeted, trying to fight down her growing dread. _He wouldn't.. not again?_

She hated herself for even thinking it, but it was always there in the back of her mind_. Once such a line was crossed, just how hard was it to cross it again?_

"You don't think..He wouldn't...? she could not completely voice her apprehension.

"No" he returned with conviction. Harry was past that. He was sure of it, but this was.. shocking. "No, I think he's hurting, probably even questioning his own existence, fate, God ect.., all the "whys and wherefores" we all have in the face of such tragedy. Though only the enemy was killed it was still a tragic loss of life. A waste in the greater scheme of things."

He knew what it was to go into battle and by the grace of Merlin come out in one piece whilst your enemies lie in ruin, but this was one of those things that was completely out of the rule book.

To vanquish your enemy in such a way was a harsh thing to have to live with. Not many could make such a choice no matter how desperate the need at the time.

All commanders knew what it is to make the hard choices. Fewer still knew what it was to make the right choices despite the devastating consequences.

This was one of those times and it was the right choice given the circumstances.

Either way there was going to be a slaughter, far better the enemy than your own.

Lewis Croaker considered other possibilities.

Harry was not a commander and had shown no interest in pursuing such advancement, but despite his young age perhaps he was ready to be considered for such a responsibility.

How he handled tonight would go a long way toward determining if he was ready for greater challenges.

These thoughts were from a commander's point of view. The friend and mentor in him ached for his young charge.

This was a grievous thing. A necessary thing, but regrettable... very regrettable.

A shaken Susan Bones floo'd home shortly after the two settled into a comfortable resignation of waiting together to see how the rest of the night would unfold. Amelia had suggested searching for him, but Lew assured her it would be pointless. If he didn't want to be found then he wouldn't be.

Her aunt was the first to grab her up in a rib cracking hug, reassuring herself that her niece was unharmed.

Susan was pale and obviously distraught. There appeared to be dried tear tracks on her cheeks and her eyes were red rimmed and pensive.

She pulled out of the hug to ask tremulously,.. "Is he here?"

Her aunt didn't bother to ask who she meant as it was the same person that held all of their concern presently.

She ran a hand soothingly through Susan's strawberry blonde locks and shook her head sympathetically.

Susan's head leaned into the touch, drawing comfort from it.

"Do you want to talk about it?" her aunt offered.

Susan began to shake her head, then paused and answered haltingly..."He... s-slaughtered them..."

"And if he hadn't they'd have slaughtered you and we would not be safe at home having this conversation." Lew Croaked joined in pointedly, defending his subordinate.

Susan nodded..."I-I know that, but.. they were screaming.. terrible screams..." Susan shuddered at the memory. "Some were casting spells blindly; trying desperately to stop an attack they didn't understand and had no defense against. " Susan pulled away from her aunt and ran her hands up and down her arms as if trying to ward off a chill.

Her body was shaking as she struggled to hold back tears that she no longer had left to shed.

"They were clawing at their faces and thrashing back and forth on the ground. The snow was stained red with their blood. They begged for mercy,.. those that still had voices to plead with.. Other coughed and gagged,.. choking on their own blood. Some even t-turned their wands on themselves to escape the pain..."Susan broke down in wracking sobs at that last horrific memory.

* * *

A lone figure sat in front of a blazing fire with a glass of barely touched fire whiskey in his hand. He felt no warmth from either the whiskey or the fire, though he found the flames and the smoldering ash comforting. He'd gone to St. Timothy's and lit a candle for the fallen asking mercy for their souls. He asked forgiveness for himself in silent prayer and then departed before people began arriving for the midnight mass. He would not attend the mass this year as he had previously. Perhaps he should have, but it seemed wrong somehow in the face of things.

He didn't spend his evening mulling over his existence or that of fate and God or even second guessing his actions from earlier. He was alive. The innocents were alive and unharmed. The enemy was dead. That was all that mattered in the greater scheme of things.

Dumbledore would have been appalled at his ruthlessness. Moody would no doubt applaud his resourcefulness. The Dragon would simply understand that he had done what he needed to.

He... He was more worried by the fact that he could live with what he'd done. Although worried was probably not the right word, but accepting. Idly he wandered if this acceptance was from maturity or perhaps even the beginnings of wisdom?

He'd also decided, somewhere during the evening, that this would be his last walk in the snow. Not because of what happened, though the memory was not one he sought to repeat. No,.. he no longer needed to reassure himself that his once friends were alright and moving forward- they were.

He was the one that needed to move forward.

He saw in the eyes of those after, at the Burrow, the revulsion with which they judged his actions. Who were they to judge his actions? They who were alive and able to celebrate more Christmases because of what he'd done and the stain it left upon only him.

He hadn't expected gratitude, but he did expect a modicum of respect. He knew he would get that and more from his fellow Unspeakables, the former didn't matter. He no longer lived with them, nor craved their understanding and affection. They were the faceless public he served and defended. How he did so was his business. Only the outcome mattered.

He would no longer walk in the snow alone and forgotten next Christmas Eve. Whether he was roasting marshmallows by the fire, singing carols or watching "The Christmas Story" for the hundredth time didn't matter. All that mattered is that he would share it with others that he cared for and was cared for by in return.

Besides,.."The Christmas Story" never got old. "White Christmas" on the other hand?


	7. Chapter 7: Draco Malfoy?

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N: Sorry, I know it's been awhile. I want to thank all fo you for so many kind reviews and personal messages. They are all greatly appreciated. For those of you who are patiently waiting for updates to other stories- they're coming, I swear! MK

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Draco Malfoy?**

Schhh-nict...munch-munch...

Shhh-nict...munch...munch...

It was a waiting game and one he knew he was slowly winning despite the old man's legendary patience.

He could tell he was slowly getting under the old man's skin by the way his eye twitched every time he methodically cut off another slice of apple whilst eyeing the old wheezer with a distinct expression that implied: _I wish this were you, _ as he cut off yet another layer of apple as if it were flesh off the bone.

Minerva McGonagal had been the inspiration behind this little 'meet and greet' to "clear the air', as she put it, in the interest of working together to defeat the common foe.

The last time he'd had the displeasure of his supreme dumbass was when he and his cohorts had lit upon the fact that Ravenclaw's diadem was most likely a horcrux and he'd remembered having seen one such when hiding the Halfblood Prince's potion manual his fifth year.

_Ah, and what a splendid year that had been! _

_**The memories**__...Sirius falling through the veil. _

_Dumbledore drops the good news that you're the sacrificial lamb and Easter is rapidly approaching._

_Hedwig killed by vindictive 'inquisitorial squad' members, ie... Malfoy and his goon squad. _

_Gryffindors' tearing their insignia from his robes and cutting away his house colored tie. _

_The loneliness and desolation of knowing you were completely alone and without any source of friend or family, not so much as even a friendly acquaintance could you claim your own. Then, in hope filled, fleeting moment you hear a soft voice call out and your spirits soar thinking that yes,.. someone still cares... there's hope..._

_Only then,..Susan Bones unknowingly breaks your pining heart._

_The wind in my hair and the impending sense that I'm finally, blessedly free._

_That was until m__y face imbedded in the lawn, followed by the smell of freshly mowed grass and blood filling my waning senses to capacity._

_The feel of bones sticking out from where they shouldn't have._

_Waking only to find your face is not your own and you're still prophesy's bitch!_

_Yes,.. fifth year was one for the books, but I'm over it, really I am._

"Was there no other alternative?" Dumbledore finnaly breaks and presses for an answer regarding my questionable choices of Christmas Eve last.

Dumbledore's query brings me back to the here and now. Shame that, I was really enjoying my trip down memory lane, that and contemplating that I could probably do with another full block of counseling sessions, but it is Christmas, well.. Boxing Day,.. and my mind healer is currently on a much needed sabbatical. Apparently it's stressful talking to me.

In answer to the aged one's question regarding "alternatives"... "I fancy an orange," referring to the apple I'm patiently cutting into with a surgeon's precision. "..but it makes a terrible mess and I didn't want to stain your office, at least not with **orange juice**." I answer both sarcastically and pointedly. I can tell he gets the gist of it by the way his moustache droops and his patented "disappointed look' appears to have reached an all time low.

The Dragon snorts appreciatively next to me and Minerva huffs impatiently, rolling her eyes.

I could be polite, but why? I mean.. it's not like I owe him anything and I didn't get anything from him for Christmas either, so why not take an ounce of flesh- literally.

Besides, he's relatively safe. Minerva's holding our wands in the "interest of harmony".

_Where does she come up with all these cute little sayings like this one that essentially means to "keep us from hexing one another into next week"._

"I am, of course, referring to the tragedy you perpetuated this Christmas Eve last, not the apple you're using as a metaphor in trying to intimidate me with, Mr. Potter." The old man snarls having lost his last shred of patience.

_I win! It's not much, but it's satisfying none the less. _

" Awe Jeez..." Dragon groans at Dumble's slip of having used.. '_That name'_.

I look around as if searching the room for an unseen entity. "Who? I see no MR. Potter here? Do you mean the late, Harry Potter? The Boy who lived? The Chosen One? The light's chosen champion? The banished Gryffindor? Dumbledore's stooge and all around whipping boy? And last, but certainly not least: 'He who did a two and a half gainer to perfection off the Astronomy tower and still didn't score well enough to qualify for the medal round'?"

"That's enough, Harry" McGonagal scolds, although I can tell the Dragon's amused by the way he snorts at that last and possibly truest title. _I know it's my favorite._

"No,.. I really don't think it is, but I'll desist if it displeases you. I will not, however, sit here and let the Supreme Cluck of the Order of the Chicken cackle on about what a bastard I am for having saved the bulk of his inept group of young chicks and over ripe bad eggs so that they may continue in their much vaunted efforts of destroying the threat of Voldemort by looking adoringly at their illustrious leader and fawning on his every wizened word in their twice a week meetings of "What's Voldie done now and what will he do next- not that we could or even would attempt to do anything about it."

Minerva gasped scandalously at that. Whilst the Dragon chuckled darkly and Dumbledore proved me wrong, yet again, by looking **even more** disappointed than previously.

I find I'm starting to crave that reaction which is probably not a good thing- for Dumbles.

"I can sympathize with your feelings of betrayal and animosity Harry, really I can. I did not have you entire best interest at heart and would have, as you say, served you up as the "sacrificial lamb", had not the source of your emancipation from Voldemort's horcrux been fortuitously of your own unknowing devise. Unlucky though that incident seemingly was and the tragic events surrounding it; I cannot help but feel divine intervention, fate or what have you, had a hand conspiring to free you from your burden. I am truly relieved and grateful that you are free from having suffered the fate I had intended for you and I do not, in any fashion, condone my actions nor the planning behind them."

Then the old man pasted his most humble expression on his face. "I have wronged you, Harry, grievously wronged you, but seeking your forgiveness is not my reason for requesting your presence here today. I am concerned... truly concerned that your actions of late will inevitably lead you down a dark path."

_I feel like I'm talking to Yoda._

Harry could tell by Minerva's reaction that Dumbledore's statement was not what she was lead to believe was the reason he so plaintively sought this meeting between them. What a surprise that even though he admits to wrongdoing, he makes not the slightest attempt to apologize, let alone make amends. He does, however, attempt to draw away attention to his own misdeeds by projecting blame onto me and play himself up as the savior of my dark soul.

_Once a manipulative old bastard, always a manipulative old bastard_.

The fact that Wraith could so readily pierce the veil of his machinations was further testament to his maturity and his own growing wisdom.

Harry nodded at his statement as if wholly understanding the Headmaster's view and reluctantly agreeing with it in surrender.

"I see, hmm, yes... so it's my best interest you have at heart again,.. undoubtedly for "the greater good". Harry draws quotation marks in the air at that.

Incredulously he continues..."I can see how you're fit to judge such, what with you own unflagging diligence and humanitarian efforts in condemning an orphan to years of emotional and physical abuse. All directed toward making you seem the savior in said orphan's eyes when rescued every Sept. 1st. Such unearned gratitude went a long way toward manipulating said orphan to fight your war for you all for the unique pleasure of eventually sacrificing himself for your version of the "greater good"."

Dumbledore smiles benevolently, though his eyes didn't reflect the same. He was more than a little irritated. "As I said..." he began in a more forced grandfatherly tone than what was usual. "I understand and can condone your animosity, but this is not **my**, but your **war** you've fought and continue fighting. It was not **me** that was **marked** by Voldemort, thereby validating the Prophecy, but **you**."

Harry lifts is blonde hair from his unblemished forehead pointedly. "I bear no mark so I wonder,.. is my part in this grand scheme now concluded? Have I, in effect, fulfilled said prophesy? I died and in so doing; Voldemort's hold on me, his horcrux, was destroyed. Is_ 'neither can live whilst the other survives' _the telling line or crux of said prophecy and if so, have I fulfilled it?"

Dumbledore stepped his fingers plaintively, sighing in that condescending way of his that was designed to put students in their place; that of idolizing the great and all wise Dumbledore. Despite that, I could see in his eyes that he was somewhat perplexed by my point and was stalling as he digested it whilst still trying to project his _all knowing_ persona.

_Merlin,.. was I a blind fool for so unflaggingly pandering to this wolf in sheep's clothing_.

_Hey,.. Minerva would probably like that analogy_. _I'll have to share._

At length, his _all knowingness_ concedes defeat whilst seemingly casting doubt and lecturing us as if I'm being obtuse.

"One cannot say for certain as Prophecies are mysterious and often self fulfilling, but I think you are perhaps merely interpreting the Prophecy to fit your own hopes and needs."

I go for the throat. "And were you not doing the same from the night my parents were killed?" I can see the shock in his face in how readily he fell into a trap of his own devise and allowed the tables to be turned in his disfavor.

A chance look in Minerva's direction and I can readily see she's seeing Dumbledore in a more realistic light than previously.

It's time to twist the knife and see if a nagging suspicion has a basis in fact. "Along those lines I find it more than passing convenient that Sirius was incarcerated those many years without trial to determine his guilt or innocence, Chief Warlock?" I express his title as head of the Wizengamot pointedly, knowing he could have called for a hearing and established proof of guilt or innocence, under veritaserum, at anytime. "A very convenient turn of events, wouldn't you say, as it thereby allowed you to easily place said orphan in an abusive home,.. starting the ball rolling as it were? "

Minerva gasped in dread understanding , but I ignore the distraction as I'm focused entirely on Dumble's.

_There! __**The tell**__. His eyes shift a scant second before he surreptitiously moves his hand ever so slightly towards the drawer of his desk and I don't think he's going for a lemon drop, just now?_

BY the hiss of his wand filling his hand I can tell that the Dragon is on to him too.

Thunk!

"Arg!"

My carving knife pins his arm to the overstuffed chair he always plants his skinny arse on whilst guests on the other side of the desk make do with uncomfortable bare wood and less height to their chairs so that Dumbles towers over his petioners.

_Purely another coincidence, I'm sure_.

I lean back in my chair and let the Dragon deal with him as I'm emotionally compromised. Which means I'd like nothing better than to rip his over long beard off and make him eat it. I don't bother giving McGonagal a second thought as she's one of the few people I trust. Though she may not agree with everything I do, she's not a fool and learned long ago not to place her trust or devotion wrongly in the hands of one, Albus Dumbledore. Besides all that, the Dragon is one of her oldest and most trusted friends and if he's sided with me, as I know he has, so will she out of mere respect for her friend's given faith.

Albus struggles pathetically to pry the desk drawer open with the tips of his fingers, though each attempt is more painful as the movement grinds my blade through the soft tissues and tendons of his upper arm, effectively securing him in place like a pinned up dung beetle on some teenager's insect collection.

It's a sad testament to the last war's much heralded 'leader of the light'.

"Minerva...please...?" he gasps out in waning hope that she'll rescue him from the dilemma he's imposed upon himself by his treacherous actions.

Minerva sighs, shaking her head desolately in resigning him to his fate. Her refusal to raise a wand, let alone a voice in his defense hits him hard and he seems to fold in on himself. His eyes go blank and glassy as he believes he's met his end and all his dreams of continued glory now fade with his hopes.

At length he puts words to his fate. "Are you going to kill me now,.. Harry?"

I'm not sure if he's using my name to try and appeal to my sense of sympathy or if he's hoping that I'll finish things in my irritation for his having done so knowing that it irritates me.

"Certainly not. I'm no killer, despite what misconceptions you may have. I only ever kill in my own defense or in the defense of others when I have no alternative, but do so: "for the greater good". Along that vein, I do my own dirty work. I do not delegate and manipulate said tasks to pawns that I pretend to befriend. Nor, do I condemn them for their actions after."

I'd like to believe by his humbled and now weeping continence that he has at long last seen the error of his ways, but I doubt it.

The old saying that you can't teach an 'old dog new tricks' was meant for Albus Dumbledore. He's spent so many years being heralded as all wise and all knowing, that he's come to actually believe it. Relish it even.

It's as dangerous of a thing as Voldemort's megalomania and essentially the same if you think about it.

I rise and come around the side of his desk. He flinches as if he's afraid I gonna do something to finish off to the old coger. Why... surely he doesn't believe himself as immortal as Voldemort unthinkingly does?

I don't need to do a thing to him as time itself will deal with him. Absently, I wonder if this is not the true intent behind the saying that "time heals all wounds"?

"It's only a flesh wound."" I acknowledge, reaching for the handle of my imbedded knife. "Keep your hand away from whatever's in that drawer or the next time I'll aim for your throat." I warn him and by the way he plants his hand in his lap I can see the message has sunk in.

"Urg..." he grunts as I pull my knife from his arm, freeing him. He pitches forward slightly before recovering and pulling himself upright in a fleeting attempt to preserve his dignity.

With waning hope he searches my once vibrant green eyes and finds only cool blue orbs glaring back.

I loom over him and am rewarded by his cowering back into the other side of his chair, desperate to put some personal space between us. "Don't ever seek me out again to work your wiles or play your silly mind games designed to try and intimidate or cajole in a misguided attempt to manipulate me."

I reach down and squeeze his wounded arm and must admit that I do take some pleasure in watching his face turn greenish from pain.

"You're an old man, Dumbledore. One whose prime has past and his reputation falters. I can think of no more fitting punishment than to leave you as you are and let time itself be your judge, jury and executioner. Play with your precious Order. Lie to yourselves that you're doing something useful to bring an end to war. You can best attain that lofty notion by staying out of the way of those who truly are fighting the enemy so that you don't unthinkingly put one of them in harm's way. If you do find some useful tidbit of information, pass it on to those who can best utilize it, but don't'..." here I lean over him, leering meaningfully in the promise of mayhem.

"... don't under any circumstances get one of **them** killed by your own deluded machinations of power and authority." I don't need to clarify who I mean by **them**- he knows.

"If harm comes to **them** and I even think you're responsible... I'll come back here and the only holes you won't have that were caused by me; is the ones you were born with. Save your shite and piss for those, instead of blathering on through that fur covered cake hole and getting good people killed so that you can feel you're still an important player in a game you can no longer successfully play."

"Here-Here!" the Dragon cheers appreciatively as I wipe my blood stained knife off on the old turd's beard sawing off a good chunk of it in the process.

"Y-You've gone dark!" he half whines, half accuses tremulously as if saying it will make it so and vindicate himself in his own mind.

"No,.. but I can be ruthless if ruthlessness is required. Wars are not one by stunning spells."

"Don't pretend you've taken any moral higher ground. I've done my homework and Grindlewald didn't fall to any tickling charm. The man had more dark curses hit him than one of Voldemort's dueling mannequins." The Dragon adds pointedly in my defense.

"I've never used a dark curse in my life!" Dumbledore barks in outrage at the accusation, which is actually a fact.

"I suspected as much. Then you're a liar and took credit for someone else's work. Didn't I read some mention somewhere of you having , not only an older brother, but a sister? I believe there was some gossip about her having got caught in a cross fire between you and Grindlewald? I'm starting to think there is more to those old rumors... much more?"

His assumption hits home and I can see by the way that the blood drains out of the old man's face that he's hit pay dirt. If there's one thing the Dragon enjoys its studying battles and battle tactics. He knows what he's about.

"Albus Dumbledore?!" Minerva gasps out scandalized as she too catches on.

"Th-The people needed hope... a f-figure to rally around. Our world was in ruin. What I did I did for the "Greater-Urg!"

A knife finds its way into his other arm from Dragon's extended hand. "Sorry.." he apologizes to the room. "But I can't take another one of the old faker's "Greater Good" lectures.

"Hmmph, the only Dark Lord you should fear is yourself, Dumbledore." Harry scoffs as he unceremoniously pulls the blade from his other arm and it wipes it clean on his 'moon and star' adorned hat before casting it aside like a used Kleenex.

Between groaning in pain he manages to gasp out: "Y-You don't understand... it was utter chaos back then. I couldn't let my sister's sacrifice be for nothing." Dumbledore struggled to explain only his excuses sounded more pathetic by the moment.

Dragon waved his returned dagger meaningfully toward the old man asking... "Do you want to try for another?"

Dumbledore cringed back at that, pulling his wounded arms about himself protectively, but had the good sense to not press his luck and remained silent.

"Let's get out of her,.. Gentlemen?" Dragon asked the room.

Disillusionment spells were canceled and the rest of Griffon's team made their unseen presence known within the office.

Minerva stifled a shriek when a tiny "chameleon"- like lizard leapt off her shoulder and transformed into a robed Unspeakable, smoothly landing on his feet and bowing apologetically for startling the future Headmistress.

"Did you get all that, Raven?" Dragon asked a man stepping in from the area where Dumbledore's penseive was held.

"All recorded for the "Greater Good" boss." Raven answered winningly.

Dumbledore's face fell and he began to weep bitterly in shame.

"If I were you I'd worry less over what was and concentrate on your future prospects- in retirement." Harry suggested with nothing even remotely sounding like a suggestion in his voice.

"Take up Golf.. there's the ticket." Dragon suggested brightly. Many of his subordinates mumbled favorably along with that.

"Nothing like a soothing game in the fresh air and so many fine courses nearby.. this is Scotland after all."

His fellows broke into laughter at they filed out of the office, each nodding respectfully to McGonagal as they passed her on their way out the door.

Harry was the last. He stood for the longest time contemplating the once prestigious headmaster who turned out to be little more than another Gilderoy Lockheart- an unworthy opportunist.

"Perhaps you were a great man upon a time though current evidence seems to indicate otherwise. I could forgive you that had you been fair in your dealings with me. I once looked up to you. I trusted you. Loved you even,.. like a surrogate grandfather. You let me down along with yourself and countless others. Most of all you let my parents and Sirius down. We're I you... I would cling to life as long as I may, rather than face my waiting parents in the Afterlife when you will undoubtedly learn if one can die a second time."

He shook his head disappointedly and turned away, ignoring the pathetic man's mewling in pain and self pity.

Harry stepped up to McGonagal who handed him his wand without comment other than to place her palm caringly against cheek and smile supportively.

He pressed his face into the hand, gratefully."I'll stop in from time to time, 'k?"

"I'd like that. I'd like that very much." Minerva rasped.

He cupped his hand over hers and turned his lips into her hand planting a kiss and leaving her with a last smile of gratitude and deepest affection.

* * *

"Mmmm... that smells.. wha?" Susan startled and pushed back into her pillows away from the mug of cocoa being waved under her nose.

"Oh good,.. you're up." Wraith feigned delighted surprise.

"What're you... get out!" Susan shrieked in embarrassment pulling her bedclothes up to cover her modesty.

""Nu-ugh,.. none of that. He waggled his finger at Susan warningly. "It's half six and time for your lesson."

"Lesson? But I.. It's a holiday...?"

"Check that... the last three days were holidays, but today is just plain old Tuesday... and it's time for your lesson."

"Lesson nothing. I'm on holiday and I'm sleeping in!" Susan spat and twisted over, pulling her covers over her head.

"You'll be sor-rrry" he promised in a sing song voice.

"No I won't!" She curled herself into a fetal position and pulled her pillow down over her head to muffle him out.

"All-rightie then" Wraith clapped his hands together in anticipation.

Several minutes later he returned carrying a large bucket of ice water.

Sploosh

"YIIII-OWWWW!"

"Oh Good...you're up!" Wraith chortled happily. "Now that you've showered, dress up warm cause its rrrr-really cold out there." He shuddered dramatically for emphasis and all but danced out of her room, leaving her shivering and hyperventilating asshe stared wide eyed at nothing.

**A half hour later...**

"Try again." he instructed calmly.

"Grr..." Susan growled in frustration as she cast a heating charm at the frozen pond, succeeding only in thawing a small patch of ice down to open water.

"Too much and too focused. Visualize it in your head." he suggested.

"It's too big of an area." Susan complained dejected by her many failures.

"No, it isn't. You're a strong and capable witch. I'm not asking you to do anything you're not capable of doing. Remember that magic is all about intent. If you can't visualize what you want then your magic can only take a guess and it will always take the easy route- don't let it." he ledtured knowingly.

"Alright" Susan huffed in her frustration. She cast again only more forcefully. The air rippled over the pond, heating the area, but her objective was left relatively untouched and still glistened frostily as if mocking her attempts.

Her arm fell in defeat at that.

"Don't force it, coax it along. Let it fill you and flow from you."

Sue crossed her arms and huffed indignantly. "This whole thing is ridiculous. Not even Dumbledore could melt something this size let alone with the sort of finesse you're talking about."

At seeing Susan's refusal to try again he sighed disappointedly. "Here... let me show you then."

He stepped up behind her right shoulder and slowly, with his hands cautiously intimating his intent, he wrapped one arm around her waist and cupped the other hand over her right hand, joining the two with her wand.

His cheek was scant centimeters from her own and their warm breath comingled freezing in the air before them with each breath.

"Close your eyes, Sue." He whispered near her ear, his warm breath tickling her lobe and cheek. "Picture the pond free from snow, as a sheet of glistening ice so clear that the sun light sparkles across its surface. Can you see it in your mind?"

"Y-Yes.." she rasped, trying to ignore the rapid beating of her heart and the blush that threatened to give away her traitorous body's response to his close proximity.

Suddenly the air didn't seem quite so chill to her.

"Release your magic,.. don't cast,.. just let it go... will it to create your heart's desire..."

After only a few pensive moments he complimented softly. "Very nice"

She immediately registered the cool air assaulting her cheek where his warm breath had been scant seconds before. She almost whimpered at the loss of contact as he stepped aside.

Susan's eyes fluttered open and she gasped in wonder at the beautiful sheet of ice before her.

"I did.. did I really do that?" she nearly squealed, hardly daring to hope.

Wraith nodded his head, smiling proudly from out of his true visage, though she had no way of knowing that.

Wasting no time to take her initial success farther ahead, he prompted, "Now the cushioning charm."

"Cushioning charm?" Susan asked, her pert nose wrinkling up from the puzzled expression she wore.

**Minutes later...**

"Yeeee-Ohhh-OWE!" Susan had fallen again. This time her arms had wind milled wildly as she tried and failed to regain her balance before crashing down on her backside for what surely felt to her like the hundredth time, though it was only the third.

Wraith skated over, the picture of grace and elegance doing so. "Need a lift?" He bent down offering her a gloved hand up.

"How do you stay up on these things?" she mewled as he pulled her to her feet.

"Balance... it's all about balance. It's the same with magic, Sue."

Her cheeks pinked up and she hoped he wouldn't notice, thinking it was just the cold. She hadn't initially registered when he'd first used the abbreviation of her name, but now that she had, she found she liked it.

Apparently he had noticed because his next comment of.. "You're already balanced, Sue,.. well proportioned as you are."

He skated off again, chuckling in amusement as her face crimsoned and she twisted away trying to hide the fact, only to overbalance and send her reeling to the ice- again.

Wraith skated back and with a dramatic, long suffering sigh, he helped her back to her feet.

"Here... with me.." he offered, skating around and coming up behind her right shoulder. His right skate was next to hers, his left between her legs, near her left. His left arm came gently around her waist and his right hand grasped the back of hers and folded it to her waist.

Susan's breath hitched as his warmed her cheek once more, calmly instructing. "Move with me... slow and easy... first the right, now the left.. right-left...right-left... Keep your head up and picture your skates stroking the ice... breath Sue,.. just breath..."

They started out hesitantly, herky-jerky and uncertain. Slowly, but surely, as she started to relax and fall into a rhythm, her body started to mimic his own. There were a few stumbles, but gradually they started to glide together. When Susan was to the point that she was steady on her own, he pivoted in front of her, catching her up before she could lose her balance as she startled by the abrupt change. He skated backwards holding her hands and guiding her along though she hardly noticed as she was mesmerized by the way that the ice reflected off his blue eyes.

The moment was shattered when a hint of emerald green sparked at the centers of his irises. Susan startled and wind milled. She might have fallen if he hadn't pulled her into a protective hug, lifting her easily from the ice and holding her aloft till she settled and calmed.

Susan nodded gratefully into his chest when he asked if she was "alright", though she was anything but.

In that briefest of moments she felt herself drawn to another time, another place.. another boy. It was impossible, she knew, what she was thinking and feeling, but she could have sworn on her very magic that for that briefest of moments she was looking at another person.. another soul, peeking out from the depths of blue eyes that didn't seem quite his own.

It could just be a trick of the Polyjuice, but somehow she wasn't sure that was it.

Her musings were swept away when the tips of her skates touched the ice as he gently lowered her back onto her feet. Holding her close he moved them cautiously back to the frozen shoreline, canceling the transfiguration on their boots as they stepped ashore with such ease that she could have sworn he'd never used a wand. Either way his aim had been perfect as his eyes had never left hers.

They walked quietly back to the manor, her mitten covered hands fidgeting nervously at her sides. She wanted to reach out and take his hand, though she didn't for the life of her know why she suddenly felt that way and it confused her greatly.

She didn't even like him, at least not that way... _didn't she?_

Either way, she never worked up the courage to try which was something that would end up bothering her even more in days ahead.

They entered the mud room off the kitchen and removed their caps and coats. Wraith, in a surprising display of chivalry, helped her remove her wet boots.

"How about I make us up a nice cup or two of cocoa to warm up while you relax by the fire?" he nodded toward the family room's glowing hearth across the way from the kitchen.

"Uh-uh." Susan rejected. "I'll make the cocoa so that I know what I'm drinking and not getting another one of your nasty little surprises. Those things hurt on the way out you know?" she pulled a face at the memory of the last tracking capsule she'd passed.

"Sounds like you need more roughage and leafy greens in your diet." he remarked absently.

Susan merely rolled her eyes and began to fill the kettle. "Fetch the marshmallows won't you?" she instructed, pointing toward the pantry, hastily amending in afterthought. "And no funny stuff-mind."

"I wouldn't do that to cocoa?" he scoffed. "That's just wrong that is." he shot back in a wounded voice as he went to retrieve the marshmallows.

"Sure you wouldn't." Susan returned doubtfully. "Is there anything you really wouldn't do?" she was being sarcastic, but there was a hint of fishing in her comment as well.

"I wouldn't change your hair color." he ventured matter of fact as he stepped back to the counter and parked himself on one of the kitchen island's stools.

Susan hand went subconsciously to her hair, before she registered the whole of his comment and began blushing, which she thought she did a fair job of hiding by turning to the stove to check the tea kettle.

"There are mugs in the right cupboard", she called over her shoulder, bidding herself more time. He collected the mugs and returned to his seat waiting expectantly for her next attempt to glean some insights into the mystery that, he realized by necessity, made up his life.

Susan poured out the steaming cocoa and Wraith reached toward the bag, but she fanned his hand away and doled out the marshmallows herself, squeezing each first, eyeing them suspiciously.

He rolled his eyes, but held his comments regarding trust issues. She had good reason to be on her guard.

At length he broke the quiet and asked in a dry chuckle. "Well what should we talk about?"

"Hmmph.. I don't suppose there's anything about yourself that you'd care to divulge? I don't even know if you're really a boy,.. not for sure?"

"We could wait an hour until the polyjuice wears off and play show and tell?" he offered mischievously. His eyebrows bobbed eagerly as he took another sip of cocoa.

"Alright" Sue called his bluff and was rewarded with him spraying out a mouthful of cocoa across the counter.

Once his coughing and gagging resolved and he was able to breathe again without sputtering, Susan asked hopefully. "Isn't there anything you can say.. I mean.. come on, what do you like to do? Any hobbies or interests..give me something to work with?"

"I like quidditch." he answered forthrightly.

Susan brushed a hand idly in his direction. "Everyone likes quidditch."

"Not everyone. I knew a girl in school that used to pretend to be watching the match but really she was reading a book, usually "Hogwart's a History".

Susan gasped at that. "That sounds like Hermione Granger?"

"Who?" he asked innocently, acting naïve, though he'd been purposely bating her about Hermione.

Susan's eyes narrowed suspiciously at that. "The person you described is undoubtedly, Hermione Granger, a Gryffindor in my year. "Hogwart's a History" is her favorite book. She brought it to every game which she mainly went to as a show of supporting her friends and her house. If you know her then you were obviously in Hogwarts around the same time as I was."

If Susan expected a full confession she would be disappointed, however, she was anything but when he made a show of trying to remember as he rubbed his chin and conjectured. "Pretty sort of girl, bookish, but pretty... bushy brown hair..?"

"That's her!" Susan gasped excitedly.

"Never saw her." He flatly denied, shooting her down with a smug expression at her expense.

"Urggghhh!" she growled out in frustration, itching to hex him in the worst way but never going for her wand. The last time she'd made that mistake she had been unable to sit comfortably for two days.

A _stinging he_x has nothing on good spanking with a willowy wand. She could still feel the switch hitting her bum as he laughed manically whilst she tried in vain to cover her smarting backside and shrieked in dismay.

Recomposing herself if for no other reason than to rob him of his pleasure at her irritation, she asked.. "Did you play quidditch in school?"

He nodded.

"What position did you play?"

"One of them."

"So you did play for a Hogwart's House." She crowed triumphantly.

"I never said that." he refuted.

"Why else would you be unwilling to let me learn what position you played in school? You obviously feel that would give too much of your identity away since I couldn't know the identities of other players at other European schools." She was reaching a bit, but her instincts told her she was right.

"Did I see you play... I did, didn't I?" she pressed eagerly her seeming advantage, enjoying his obvious discomfort.

"Maybe." He answered honestly, surprising her. "I played a pickup game with a bunch of other students from Durmstang and Beauxbatons. Potter was one of that crowd. He beat out Krum for the snitch." He threw that last in for good measure and scored heavily as her face fell in defeat.  
"I-I suppose that must be it." She agreed glumly, though brightened shortly after as she asked facetiously.

"You're not Viktor Krum under there, are you?"

"Dah, you haf found me out." he mimicked Viktor's guttural accent when speaking English. "I only play quidditch as a cover for being a Britessh U—Un.. Un-sp.. er,.. secret agent."

Susan giggled at his exaggerated attempts at failing to pronounce "Unspeakable" articulately.

When she collected herself she assumed.. "So not, Durmstang then, you must of went to Beauxbatons?"

"Right, and I'm faking a British accent." He rolled his eyes incredulously with her line of ill thought out reasoning.

"So you did go to Hogwarts." Susan crowed triumphantly, thinking she'd caught him up.

"Never said that." He returned blandly. His eyes dancing mischievously as she scowled in frustration.

"Anymore questions? I could go on about myself all day." he chided, fawning like Gilderoy Lockhart used to.

She recognized the gesture and huffed in irritation from the other side of the Kitchen Island. She knew he was taking the mickey, just as she now knew for a certainty that he went to Hogwarts. Gilderoy Lockhart was there two years before the Tri-wizard tournament, something an exchange student wouldn't have readily known and definitely not be intimately familiar with his mannerisms.

_Who is this man?_

The mystery of the man was both intriguing and at the same time maddening. For all she knew he could be Draco Malfoy? That thought alone, fleeting that it was, was enough to make her shudder with dread.

"Disgusting" Wraith commented, curling his lip distastefully.

"The cocoa?" she assumed.

"No, that you think I could be the ferret in disguise."

Susan gapped at that, her cheeks pinking up in embarrassment though she was able to recover herself enough to scold in return. "You shouldn't read people's thoughts it's extremely impolite."

"I agree." And he did, far more readily than she would have thought considering the ease with which he had violated her privacy.

"Then why did you?" she pressed both irate and intrigued as he usually didn't do anything without some secondary agenda.

Wraith shrugged apologetically as he explained. "I couldn't help myself actually. I'm used to being around people with very strong occulomency shields that are up 24/7. You just sort of blanked out and ..I.. I don't know.. your blue eyes just sort of drew me in and before I could register what I was doing.. I could see the ferret's face on my body and it.. well it..sort of hacked me off."

Susan stared at him for the longest time contemplating his reasoning. Two things stuck out in her musings; the first being that he didn't just say her "eyes", but her "blue eyes". The second being his almost flat out admission that he knew and disliked Draco Malfoy...No,.. not Malfoy, but the "Ferret". Many people at school secretly thought of Malfoy as the "ferret", but only a scarce few would openly call him that in the general public, let alone to his face. He may be just that, a "ferret" but he was a dangerously wealthy and well connected "ferret", one that was most probably even more so now as he was undoubtedly a Death Eater like his equally dangerous father.

As far as the scarce few who would actually deign to call Malfoy the name he not only earned, but deserved; one was dead and the other two or three people were: Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley. Hermione Granger might, but not openly without justification as she would consider such behavior beneath her. Susan knew he wasn't Ron as Ron was a professional Keeper and had been playing on nights when Wraith was actively guarding their household. She also knew that Neville was out of the running as he devoted himself to his green houses nearly every waking hour and when not researching plants he devoted his spare time to one: Ginny Weasley. Ginny was out because she too, like Ron, played quidditch professionally and couldn't be doing that whilst guarding here.

_Who is he...?_

"Sue?" a gentle hand touching her shoulder brought her out of her deep contemplation and back to the here and now.

"Did you.. you didn't..?' she gasped , instantly concerned he had read her mind again.

"No" he reassured her firmly. "You just spaced out again and after a bit I got concerned is all."

"S-Sorry" she apologized for jumping to conclusions though he waved it off chivalrously apologizing again for earlier. "No, I'm the one that's sorry. Despite everything else; Draco Malfoy is certainly not polite conversation by any stretch of the imagination.

"You speak as if you knew the man.. personally?" she was fishing again and despite the obviousness of her inquiry, she felt she had him at enough of a disadvantage that he might be more forthcoming.

"Our paths have crossed a time or to. He's a rather... unpleasant fellow."

She was wrong. The man had a will of iron and knew he owed her nothing more after having already apologized- twice.

* * *

The thirty-first of December brought an air of melancholy to the Bones' household as it was the eve of their present guard's departure.

It was a strange relationship they'd developed. They had developed an intimacy in some ways yet were still remotely distant in others. There were times; unguarded moments when a hint of warmth would bleed through the man's stoic professional detachment. As much as the minister and her niece would miss those moments, it didn't wholly account for the feeling of loss they both felt at his imminent departure.

It wasn't so much that he had grown on him and they had become inured to his presence as it was that he had grown a part of them. Amelia understood why this was so, but Susan didn't and couldn't for obvious reasons, though she did at some point come to accept the fact that she had begun the care about him.

Both had entreated him a time or two to reconsider leaving, something that he hadn't given a second thought to before turning them down- albeit far more gently than he might have when he had first entered their lives.

Many times, since that night, Susan had come to regret her actions that had brought about his desire to leave, or more to the point.. _increased_ his desire to leave.

She couldn't fault him that. She had been selfish and immature, yet he had still been too much of a gentleman for having not called her on it. She appreciated that, but sparing her feelings did nothing to solve the rift that was growing between them which was about to widen into a bottomless chasm if she didn't find a way to bridge the gap.

It was with this in mind, at least this was the reason she told herself she had in mind for asking him to accompany her as she went out with her friends to celebrate the New Year.

It was odd that. He only smiled gently from a face that wasn't even his own and replied.. "As you wish."

It was almost as if he knew it was a famous line from a romance movie, but that was so unlikely as most wizards had never even heard of a movie picture, let alone actually experienced one for themselves.

Despite that he couldn't know the reference. Susan found that his poignant comment had lightened her heart considerably.

He collected her at eight finding the two of them both delightfully surprised. He by wearing the face he wore most often and the one she'd come to associate with him. Though his appearance was quite handsome, it was his clothes that surprised her. He didn't wear his casual slacks and standard polo shirt, not even wizard dress robes. He wore a dark muggle suit and looked for want of a better word-stunning.

Susan drifted down the Manor's main stair wearing a green knee length, curve hugging gown that compliment her strawberry tresses which she had styled in gentle curls that bounced enticingly with every step she took.

His eyes were glued to her in such a way that she could feel her breath catch in her throat. It wasn't just her own eyes, or her hair or even the curve of her gown that seemed to captivate him as one thing alone would for so many others of the male species. It was the way he so appreciatively seemed to take in the whole package that made her feel so warm inside.

Startling her, he wandlessly conjured a pale yellow rose that he presented to her as...

"A small token of my esteem, milady. I am your humble servant."

It wasn't just the rose that startled her. It was that he meant it. He actually meant that was putting himself at her disposal.

She was sitting at the dinner table idly contemplating the perfection of the rose in her hand, oblivious to giggling and gossiping of her friends. She couldn't remember if she had even thanked him for it? For anything...ever?

_No wonder he was leaving._

She wished he had taken advantage of her and her friend's invitation to dine with them, but he declined, charmingly so. She could just make out his silhouette as he watched over them from the edge of the bar, sipping coffee. He appeared calm and unconcerned, but she knew he was anything but. He was always on the alert, carefully analyzing anyone and everything within striking distance of her party.

After dinner, Susan and her friends went back to their favorite haunt; the dance club that had been the source of the original friction between her and Wraith. Though if she were truthful with herself, which she was trying to be more and more; she was the source of their friction, or had been.

Things had changed since then. He was even calmer and more patient with her than he was before. At first she'd chalked up to his just being so in relief as he would no longer be responsible for her and her auntie soon.

Now she wasn't so sure if that was it. Something had changed, or shifted between them. She didn't know what it was, but she wanted to, needed to even.

Wraith had kept to the background enjoying a coke, only this time without having to pollute it with Polyjuice potion. Susan couldn't know that this was his true appearance as he changed it so many times over the past several weeks that she couldn't be sure that any representation was in actuality the real thing, but even then... it wasn't.

He never noticed as the lights dimmed and the music softened. He barely registered her slipping from the dance floor and heading toward the bar area, thinking she was going to order a drink for herself.

He was stunned from his musings when a gentle touch brushed his forearm and asked, "May I have this dance, please?"

Surprised that he had allowed himself to be so distracted was the first thing that ran through his mind, shortly followed by the danger of him even entertaining such a seemingly innocent notion. It wasn't so much his legendary nobility complex, but the very real danger of becoming knowingly involved with an Unspeakable, especially one who's your personal bodyguard.

A conflict of interest is putting it mildly, courting disaster more likely.

He never looked up to assure himself of the petitioner's identity, he didn't need to. There was a time when he would have given almost anything to hear her say these same words to the real him.

His arm trembled beneath her touch, but it didn't stiffen in apprehension, nor did he pull it defensively away.

"I d-don't think it's a good idea, S-Sue." He cursed himself for the way his voice trembled, betraying his conflicting emotions when he could least afford to.

He was expecting her to pull her hand abruptly away, wounded by his rebuff, but if anything, her grip tightened slightly.

"It probably isn't.." she agreed disappointedly and he felt himself releasing a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "..but I want to." she added and his anxiety rose a hundred and fifty percent.

Apprehensive blue eyes rose up to finding soft blue eyes beseeching him to accept her offer. He wanted to, didn't he?

There were a million reasons why not to, running through his head. Not the least of which was his current, what.. predicament?

Merlin above... he wasn't even in a body of his own. There could be no future in it. Who could accept something like this? Even if she could accept who and what he was, the history between them was precarious at best.

"Please..?" she asked again. Her voice was almost pleading in its sincerity.

Susan could not believe the gambit of emotions running through his eyes. She could tell that he wanted to,.. desperately wanted to accept her invitation, but something was holding him back and it was more than just his position as her bodyguard, although that was undoubtedly a large part of it. What else there was, didn't matter to her, but **it** appeared to absolutely be terrifying him.

"You want to.. I know you do." she pressed hopefully.

"I..It's not that simple, Sue." he stalled, awkwardly trying to look anywhere but at the object of his distress.

She reached out and gently took his chin in her palm and turned his troubled eyes to her reassuring ones."It is.. It's just that simple. I'm not asking you to marry me." At that he almost jolted from her grip, but she held fast pressing onward. "I'm just asking you to dance with me, as a friend,.. someone who cares about you and wants to be with you."

"Y-You don't know what you're asking?"

"I think I do." she reiterated assuredly.

"No , you really don't." his mind was scrabbling for some avenue of escape that wouldn't reveal more than he could ill afford without hurting her feelings in the process, which was a certainty.

"What if I told you that you were right.. that I'm Draco Malfoy?" he ventured desperately, willing her to believe him and let things go, before disaster occurred.

Susan snorted at that. "Somehow I have a feeling I'd know if that were the case. There was that about Malfoy that made most girls' skin crawl, including yours truly.

"Maybe I just don't want to, did you ever consider that?" he snarled sarcastically trying to warn her off.

Susan rolled her eyes at the attempt. "You're not that good of an actor."

At that his desperate blue eyes turned glacial. "Oh, but I am." he reassured her with something bordering on malicious in his voice that raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

"Y-You're just trying to f-frighten me?" she questioned, albeit worriedly as she searched his cool eyes for some hint of deception that would give away his true feeling, but if anything they turned even more foreboding as he warned her away with increasing intensity.

"You don't know who I am,.. what I am, not really? If you did you wouldn't be here now. You'd be as far away from me as was humanly possible. You don't and wouldn't want to know the things I've done, let alone that I'm capable of doing so much more and far worse than previously."

Susan was shaking her head in denial, still clutching his arm desperately in the hope that he was just trying to scare her, because he was- scaring her.

He was relentless though. It sickened him, but he had to make sure that she was well and truly shed of him; for her own good."If you can't believe it than at least believe what you know to be true; last Christmas Eve I killed thirty-nine people, painfully, cruelly... and.. I enjoyed it." He leered maliciously at that last.

"You are Malfoy..." Susan pulled away at that with a gasp of dread. Her hands went to her mouth to try and hold back the scream that was threatening to rip from her throat. Her eyes fought and lost the battle to hold back tears and she whimpered as she turned away and fled not only his presence, but the dance club itself. She bumped into a startled platinum blonde man on the way out that it would be some time before she registered him as being the true Draco Malfoy.

He sighed disappointedly, but made no move to follow. Besides, he knew by the activation of her tracking charm that she had apparated in the direction of home.

He did spot Malfoy as he tracked her desperate scrambling to flee his person. He felt low and dirty for what he'd done, but at seeing Malfoy he couldn't help but thinking that the old analogy of a 'silver lining' was very true.

Malfoy was destined to have an accident shortly as he obviously couldn't hold his drink- too bad that.

Susan popped into the living room so abruptly that she hadn't even notice her aunt and Lew Croaker's jumping apart and hasty attempts to right their mussed up hair and clothing.

It was some time before she calmed and longer still before she was able to impart what had transpired clearly enough to be understood by the two.

Amelia shot her friend and pleading look that he unfortunately shook his head in answer to. There were good reasons for Harry's continued survival and identity being kept a secret and it wasn't for anyone but Harry to decide who knew and when.

He both owed and honored him too much to make that decision for him. If he had wanted to scare Susan away, as it appeared he had, then he trusted his young protégé enough to know it was for a good reason. He may not agree with said reason, but he would honor it just the same.

Amelia nodded desolately at Lew's denial of her unspoken request. She knew well his reasoning for such and reluctantly agreed with it. The story was not ultimately theirs to tell, not that anyone would believe it if they did.

From them it would only be just that: a story. Only Harry, himself, knew the words that would lend the truth to the tale. Only he knew the things that only Harry Potter could know and it was those things that were the proof of his continued existence.

As much as it pained the two of them to see the young witch so despairing, neither could wholeheartedly claim they weren't just a little encouraged by the fact that Harry had not only cared enough, but had been tempted enough in that he had taken such a drastic measure to push Susan away.

Without any sound; Wraith apparated into the room with the barest hint of displaced air stirring the hairs on the other occupant's arms and necks. He took in the scene without comment other than to shoot an apologetic look to both Amelia and the Dragon for being the cause of Susan's distress.

He shrugged helplessly by way of further comment before holding his head up with as much dignity as he could muster and leaving the mansion for the final time, choosing to forgo any further potential drama the expected morning of his proposed departure.


	8. Chapter 8: For posterity's sake

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Thanks so much for all the kind reviews from the last chapter. MK

**Chapter Eight: For posterity's sake**

**Mid June... **

"**Hold the line...Hold the line... Hold the line! Come on lads,.. that's it, just a few more seconds." **The Dragon bolstered his men's morale as they pulled deep and struggled to maintain their shields long enough for the Death Eaters to become desperate.

_Sizzle...Crack...Bam...!_ Dozens of different spell lights collided with their overlapped shields which groaned and protested under the assault, but thus far held under the incessant barrage.

What already seemed like hours was really less than fifteen minutes since the Unspeakables were called into action. The Ministry itself was under a full out assault. This was no harrying or diversionary tactic. The Death Eaters had hit the ministry lobby in a force numbering in the hundreds including a smattering of : Dementors, Werewolves, Vampires and even a spare mountain troll or two; that lumbered about causing as much mayhem for the enemy as they did for the Ministry defenders.

The first wave of Unspeakables; some eight squads of six men, all armed and armored, had sprinted into action, but had been called back before they could breech the Ministry lobby where the heaviest fighting was taking place. At the last second Wraith had apparated right through the Hall of Mysteries wards, (something considered impossible up to now) and halted the advance at sensing a trap in the offing. He didn't have the authority for such an order, but the men knew and respected him enough to obey on the side of caution.

Wraith had been right. Despite the heavy fighting between the aurors and many Death Eaters; a pack of werewolves had lain in weight at the entrance to the Hall of Mysteries, expecting the Unspeakables to enter the fray from there, which they would have had Wraith now warned them off.

While the rest of the teams kept their adversaries occupied, three squads port keyed into the west and east side of the lobby and had caught the werewolves from behind and in a crossfire of silver tipped arrows and flame-cutter curses. Their howls of surprise and screams of pain would be remembered for years to come.

Dragon assumed command of Griffon squad and he along with the other remaining teams port keyed into different strategic locations throughout the Ministry. They knew what they were about as they'd entertained the notion of Voldemort mounting a full out attack at some point.

It was the logical choice as once the Ministry was taken, Voldemort was free to then branch out from a seat of power and other factions would fall in a domino effect, but first things first.. _the Unspeakables. _

There was no way Voldemort was taking over the ministry with even a single Unspeakable left alive. That's why he was concentrating his firepower on the Hall of Mysteries. Too bad for him there was no one home just now except for a select few who were setting off surprise packages for Death Eater encroachments at regular intervals, further thinning their numbers.

The rest of the Unspeakable field operatives were spread throughout the Ministry counterattacking Voldemort's forces at every crucial avenue.

Griffon team with Dragon in temporary command was currently manning the executive level. Minister Bones and the rest of her cabinet had been successfully evacuated long before the fighting had reached this level of the ministry. The fact that the Death Eaters had even breached this level was not due to the ferocity, nor the cunning of their attack, but by devise of the Unspeakables.

They were in effect, guinea pigs. The Dragon and Wraith had been working on a few new tactics that they were aching to try and what a wonderful opportunity to do so having presented itself. The Death Eaters were firing all manner of blasting hexes and dark curses down the corridor, becoming more frustrated by the second as the layered shielding, the Unspeakables had devised, had thus far repelled their attack.

The shielding, however, while effective was not their end goal, but merely the set up. Like any shield, it was still incapable of stopping an unforgivable. They knew it was only a matter of time before the Death Eaters would start resorting to more drastic measures. They had obviously been instructed by his darkness to take prisoners- alive, but in their mounting frustration, it was only a matter of time before they fell back on-AK's.

"Avada Kedavra... Avada Kedavra...Avada Kedavra..A...!

At least a dozen green lights of the killing curse came streaking down the hall in expectation of annihilating the opposing Unspeakable squad.

"Now!" Dragon shouted and Griffon squad immediately dropped their layered shields and cast as one..

"**Aegis Forte Concavus!"**

Now, shields couldn't stop killing curses, but inanimate objects could either block or deflect the force of the curse, something Harry remembered from the night Sirius died when Voldemort's silver shield deflected Dumbledore's more powerful curses.

It took a while to develop the spell into a workable alternative, but get it down they had. An immense silver metal shield erupted form their wands, bending itself into a giant U shape design of reflective surfaces.

Sensing victory the Death Eaters had already surged forward down the hall expecting their curses to level their foes long before they arrived. Instead they met their own curses ricocheting back toward them.

"Wha..? RETREAT! "The foremost Death Eater shouted just before a green lighted killing curse cut him down.

Some turned and ran, others hastily raised shields of their own, not thinking what good it could do them.

A couple of Death Eaters managed to drop and hit the floor, the onslaught of their own curses passing harmlessly over head whilst their fellows were hit with multiple AK's.

Those who'd avoided the curses managed only a few seconds of reprieve as none would make it off the floor. Stalker, in his black, panther form and Dozer's animagus, that of a six hundred pound Brahma bull, tore into them where they lay. One managed to get to his feet only to find himself gored through his midsection by Dozer's twin horns.

"Noooo, mercy.. please.. mer-cy...-Arg!" The death eater made it to his knees begging clemency whilst his wand tip glowed ominously green as he prepared to cast another AK. The cowardly villain never got the chance as a swipe of Stalker's razor sharp claws took half his face off in a shower of gore that left the man gibbering unintelligibly in his own blood and vomit.

Ungh...uggg... gaaa!" one grunted and groan as Dozer's hooves stamped down mercilessly on his limbs and back. Within a few precious seconds his voice was no more than a strangled gurgle as his broken form flailed piteously in its death throes.

Unspeakables gave no quarter to murdering fiends who prayed on women and children.

The hallway secured, they filled it with a Weasley wheeze's portable swamp, only this was one of their special Military additions: complete with live alligators... **hungry** alligators.

With an appreciative smirk, from within his hood, Wraith envied his twin friends ingenuity, missing them terribly as he did all his once friends. The moment passed quickly as he set his mind to the task at hand and followed in the wake of his team as they made their way down to the next level to flank the Death Eaters that had Ghost Squad pinned down. Stalker and Chameleon took point to reconnaissance the way ahead.

Ghost , their squad leader, was aptly named as he was so pale he looked almost an albino, only instead of pink eyes he had eyes so light gray that they almost appeared ghostlike. That, and his patronus being in the form of a ghost led to his eventual moniker. His team complimented him well as they were a spooky bunch on the whole.

There was Nightshade, his second in command. He was the opposite of his team leader in that he was so dark black that the whites of his eyes glowed like neon around his deep black eyes. His patronus was that of a spectre.

_Talk about ironic._

Banshee was there muscle, like dozer was for Griffon team. Only Banshee was more finesse. She, yes _she,_ had developed her own stunning spell that mimicked the effects of a banshee's scream in that it froze it's victims in dread fear for their very lives, only more effectively than even the paralyzing spell. Sometimes even, their hearts stopped in terror.

Night Wisp was their point man, or should I say; point woman. She, like Chameleon, specialized in reconnaissance work. Her animagus was that of a common gnat. She was so beneath notice that she could literally sneak up on any enemy, reform and easily subdue her unsuspecting targets from behind.

The last of the lot was: Shadow. Like Stalker, Shadow was their search and destroy operative. A jet black kneazel. While lacking in Stalker's size and strength, was just as fast and equally ferocious.

Shadow usually went for the jugular first, or harried his victims with glancing, frustrating attacks that usually led to their erring and eventual demise as a result.

Shadow could reap havoc on an entrenched enemy.

Griffon team rounded the corner of the fourth floor; the Ministry's Games and Sports division.

The Hallway was literally filled with wand fire; one such blasting hex nearly took Dragon's head off had he not ducked a millisecond sooner. The Death eaters weren't more than twenty paces away with their backs exposed to the newly arriving Griffon team plus one.

Night Wisp was down, having tried and failed to catch the Death Eaters unawares by retaking human form and trying to catch them from behind. By the looks of things, ie.. that being the corpse with a giant hole torn through his chest, she'd hit one with a _reductor_, but was immediately caught out and felled before she could inflict more damage.

Unfortunately for her, or fortunately for the Unspeakables, she wasn't dead. Blood trickled from her mouth and ears and she was failing uselessly, trying to fend off a Death Eater who'd taken a particular interest in the fact that she was a female, (having torn off her hood and exposing her face to scrutiny), as he was busily slapping her hands away and tearing at her clothing.

Stalker growled low in his throat and his hunches tensed as he made to spring for her tormentor.

"No" Dragon warned him off. It was the right call as he'd perhaps save her, but would either be then at the mercy of his fellows or perhaps even fall victim to friendly fire as Ghost team was laying it on heavy from the other end of the Hallway.

Likewise they couldn't just hit the Death Eaters with a barrage from behind without risking their own comrades at the other end of the hall. They needed a height advantage, (that they didn't have), so that they could fire down on the Death Eaters without putting their own at risk from friendly fire. Briefly he thought about turning Wraith and Raven loose with bow and arrows, but there were just too many Death Eaters to nullify their numbers before they got off several AK's in return. Their Aegis shield was out as they needed time to summon that heightened amount of magic which they already didn't have to spare.

Night Wisp didn't have more than a few scant seconds before her surviving would be the less immediate of her concerns.

Gratefully, Wraith came up with an idea, it was risky but it was all they had, all _she_ had at the moment.

Dozer transformed and stood at the ready as Wraith extracted a small steel ball bearing from his utility belt that he'd been saving for just such an opportunity.

He nodded to Dragon and kneeling down, he cast the strongest summoning charm he possessed, the same that had called his firebolt to him over a vast distance during the Tri-wizard tournament's first task.

"ACCIO- Night Wisp!" he bellowed as a foot wide beam of white light shot from his wand and ripped Night Wisp from the Death Eater's molesting clutches as she skidded across the floor toward Wraith's waiting grasp.

"Unghh!" he grunted with the impact, driving him back and down the hall behind, tumblingthe two of them arse over teakettle.

"Engorgio!" Dragon bellowed enlarging the charmed ball bearing, Wraith had provided, until it nearly filled the whole of the hallway.

"BRRRUUU!" Dozer bellowed as he lowered his head and drove the steel ball down the hallway like a giant steam roller, leaving no crevice of escape from the crushing death rolling their way.

"Wha-the..?" The Death eater molesting Night Wisp exclaimed in surprise as his victim ripped from his clutching fingers. He looked up in time to see the giant steel ball rumbling ominously toward him, the tile floor beneath was cracking and groaning from the weight rolling over it.

"Sonovabitch!.. Reducto-Reducto-**Reducto!**" he screamed desperately, firing blasting hexes as if his life depended on it.. and so it did. The force from his panicked cursing was enough to nearly stall Dozer, but not enough to even make a dent in the enormous, solid spere. Between the weight of the giant steel ball and the opposing force of panicked curses; Dozer was straining to keep the ball rolling forward.

Griffon leapt forward to lend his aid by jumping onto Dozer's back and swacking his backside comically with summoned board whooping and yelling... "Ha-Bull-Yaa!"

"BRRUUUU" Dozer bellowed, redoubling his efforts. Sparks flew from where the tips of his horns scraped against the rolling steeling, sharpening them to a deadly point like a blade against a grindstone.

The other Death Eaters, now alerted to their approaching doom, joined their panicked fellow and cast any number of curses trying to keep the rolling death from bearing down on them, much good as it did them as most of their curses ricocheted harmlessly over the round metallic surface into the walls and ceilings, but having no effect on the ball itself. They only managed to endanger themselves more from the opposite end of the hall. Their distraction allowed Ghost Squad to rein curses unfettered down on their exposed backs, cutting them down where they stood or in trying to flee forward. Those that foolishly held their ground...

"**Noooo...Urggg...!"**

Their voices were abruptly cut off by a sickly wet squishing sound as the blood and gore stained ball bearing ground to a halt. Dozer collapsed panting in a human heap at its blood pooling base. His weary flesh was unable to hold his animagus form any longer.

"There's a good boy. I'm gonna get you a nice ring for your nose, I am." Griffon complimented, patting his friend's head as he angrily swiped the offending hand away.

Their antics were over shadowed by Wraith carrying a groaning Night Wisp forward toward Raven for medical care.

"Unghh..I think my shoulder's b-broken?" She informed the medic with a groan.

"Sorry" Wraith apologized sheepishly, staring at her exposed face. He's known her identity and knew what to expect, but it was still unsettling.

Night Wisp waved off his apology with an appreciative smirk of "I'll live... thanks."

Wraith rubbed at his own aching shoulder, working the kinks out offering a heartfelt, "Anytime"

Dragon shook his head at the blood stained ball blocking the hallway. _Where does he come up with these things? _He marveled for not the first time at Wraith's resourcefulness under fire.

Almost reluctantly, he shrunk the ball bearing back down before cleaning and pocketing the useful device.

Ghost squad immediately made their appreciation known as they rejoined their fellow, relieved to see that she would recover.

"What say we switch places on the next level?" Dragon suggested, knowing they would undoubtedly find the fighting there at its most intense and floor three of the Ministry was reserved for the MLES.

The two teams emerged onto the floor into what could only be described a "blood bath".

The mangled, bloody corpses of dozens of dead aurors and Death Eaters littered the floors and were sprawled across cubicles, where they sought what fragile cover the office floor had to offer.

By the look of things; the Aurors had comported themselves well, but were eventually completely overrun by the sheer weight of numbers in the opposition. Many of the aurors stared with vacant glazed eyes despite the many wounds and spell burns that covered their broken bodies. They gave silent testimony to their fate.

Dementors had been sent in first and once the aurors were embroiled in the attempt to save their very souls; the Death Eaters followed in force and robbed them of their terrified lives.

Stalker growled ominously as Dozer hurled profane epitaphs that promised undying blood and vengeance upon those responsible.

A female scream echoed from the stairwell to the south, moving the defenders into action.

Wraith, as he was the closest, hit the stairwell first and what he saw froze the blood in his very veins.A blonde female was on the landing below trying feebly to raise a patronus as a dementor loomed up ominously over her savoring her growing terror.

"Expecto..patro..num.. expect...expect-to...pa-tro..."

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Wraith bellowed bringing his wand to bear. An enormous, sparklingly brilliant silver stag erupted from his wand. Its eyes gleamed emerald fire and its hooves struck sparks from the stone tiles beneath its cantering hooves.

The patronus raced down the stairwell and lowered its antlers, hitting the back of the seven foot creature with a snort of rage. His female victim, now forgotten, twisted away and tore off down the hallway, running in a blind panic.

Unlike patroni before that just warded off demntors; this one actually impaled the dementor and the black shrouded ghoul screamed an unearthly wail of pain and fear that chilled the blood to ice, freezing the group of Unspeakables in their tracks, save one.

Wraith was hot on his patronus' tail. His patronus struck and the dementor's back arched backward in sudden shock as it wailed in horror. The force of the dementor's recoil knocked Wraith's patronus from its back sending the sparkling stag tumbling down the stairwell.

Wraith leapt over the railing with a snarl of rage as he pulled his dagger from the sheath at his utility belt. One handed he drove his dagger to the hilt in the reeling dementor's back.

The dementor's arms flailed wildly in agony, probably the first time having experienced such in its eons long cursed existence. Wraith pulled his dagger out and proceeded to stab furiously again and again into the 'flanks and spine' of the thing. Night black blood and ichor flew in all directions as the dementor screamed and flailed wildly trying to escape the maddening pain.

Eventually the dementor's frenzied thrashing managed to knock Wraith aside, earning itself no more than a moment's agonized reprieve as Wraith's patronus righted itself and with a shake of its antlered head, charged back up the stairwell, hitting the dementor in its abdomen and lifting the creature into the air and throwing it back into the stair wall. The dementor hit with a bone breaking squelch. Black ichors dribbled down the wall and pooled at the broken creatures feet as it struggled to remain upright, though mortally wounded, (if such a thing was even possible for the supposedly immortal creature).

Wraith lunged forward and ripped the cowl from the creature's head exposing a head out of a madman's nightmare.

It was no more than a rotting skeleton with shreds of flesh hanging off in various stages of decomposition. Blackened flesh and gristle pulled back from a lipless, toothless maw holding a lolling black tongue. Without any eyelids or nose; its eyes bugged out grotesquely, held in place by Merlin only knew what. They were glazed over corpse's eye', seemingly incapable of any sight whatsoever, but the terror they held over its imminent demise belied that possibility. Its toothless maw sucked at the air searching for a last soul to suck out in the vain attempt to avoid the inevitable.

Gasping for air from the strain of his frenzied attack, Wraith loomed over the mewling wretch. He grabbed the back of its head pulling it back by its eye sockets, his fingertips gouging cruelly into the creature's horror stricken eyes that begged mercy.

"Here, suck on this." Wraith offered disdainfully as he plunged his dagger up to the hilt in its sucking maw. The dementor clawed empty air as it thrashed and kicked out its last. With a final shudder, the creature stilled and immediately began decomposing into a pool of liquid filth that looked as if it offended the very stone beneath it.

Wraith turned gasping from his dread labor to find the rest of his comrades perched along the top of the stairwell gapping in awed disbelief at the display.

"D-Don't just stand there gapping like idiots?" he barked, wiping gristle from his cheeks with the cleanest spot he could find still available on his blood drenched cloak. "Somebody hit me with a cleaning charm, for the love of Merlin,.. This stuff reeks!" he growled disgustedly pulling his offending cloak as far from his nose as he could manage.

A barrage of "scourgify" charms hit him, knocking him into the wall behind where he glanced off sharply and hit the ground. He rolled over with a groan of protest and worked himself back up onto all fours, using the wall to steady himself as he regained his wobbly legs.

"Thanks..." he ground out irritably, still bracing himself against the wall.

He hadn't really been paying attention to his comrades reactions as he was taking stock of his injuries, the majority of which were just minor superficial things. It was nothing that a good healing charm wouldn't take care of in a trice.

As Wraith healed his injuries the rest of the two teams alternated between stunned mutterings of disbelief at the death of the dementor and awed gasps at his still corporal patronus waiting alertly for its master to dismiss it.

"Have you ever seen a patronus like that before?" Shadow commented with no little appreciation at the spectacle before them.

"Actually, I have...?" Night Wisp answered, surprising the others, all except Dragon. He knew this moment would come soon or later... he just couldn't predict when.

Night Wisp pulled off her cloak and cowl, revealing her features to her fellows once more. There were no surprises for anyone, although Ghost did hiss his disapproval at the timing and place for her decision, but a raised hand from Dragon settled the argument before it could begin.

Some part of him felt this was as much necessary as it was inevitable.

Wraith was halted from his ministrations by a tentative hand gently grasping his arm; almost as if uncertain his arm was real.

He raised his head from his task, finding himself staring into Cho Chang's black eyes.

"H-Harry..?" she gasped, hardly daring to hope it was him. Her eyes shifted between the vivid patronus of "Prongs" and the man whose arm she was grasping as a lifeline. "Is that y-you?" she began to tear up, which for those that weren't in the know, was something she hadn't done in years.

"Harry..?" Shadow asked out loud to no one in particular.

"Wait for it?" Dozer prompted, nudging his attention back toward the drama unfolding below them.

Wraith paused for a moment as if considering, though she wrongly assumed he was puzzled because when he removed his cowl, it wasn't the face she was expecting to see.

"Oh,.. Oh, I'm sorry... I was expecting..?" she began to apologize, embarrassedly.

"It's me, Cho." he acknowledged softly. He knew who Night Wisp was. He'd known from the day that Dragon first recruited her. Dragon had divulged the information to him out of deference. There were no lies between them as the Dragon had promised from the beginning. He'd promised then that if Cho was going to be a problem then she wasn't going to be an Unspeakable.

Cho scrunched up her face in disbelief as she scrutinized the blonde hair and blue eyes staring back at her. Her eyes shifted to his hairline and came away disappointed.

"You broke up with me at Madam Puddifoot's Tea House. You were jealous over my wanting to keep my appointment with Hermione and still hurting over Cedric. And I,.. I was as inexperienced with girls then as I am still clueless now." he confirmed for her.

Cho pulled back her hand with a gasp, her eyes going wide in shock. She turned toward the others, still questioning her own ears. Dragon nodded his confirmation to her.

"It's you.. it's really you?" she hardly dared to hope.

Wraith barely had a chance to nod his head before she threw her arms around him and hugged him for all he was worth..

"B-But how.. w-why..? she managed to stammer out ecstatically

"It's Potter...Wraith is really **Potter**?" Shadow gapped at the unfolding drama on the stairway below.

"He sure as hell is." Dozer reassured, slapping his friend on the back of his shoulder.

Shadow blew out a sigh of excited relief.. "Then that means that we still could..?"

"Win?" Dozer cut him off. "You bet your arse we will."

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph.. boss...?" Ghost half complimented, half swore venting his own disbelief over this turn of events to Dragon.

"And he's everything we'd ever heard he was and more." The Dragon acknowledged, adding surreptitiously,.. "Though you never heard that from me."

"But how...how did ...?" Cho was still clinging to her once friend as if she was afraid he'd disappear and he'd be dead again if she ever let go.

"It's a long story.." Harry began but was cut off by Dragon.

"One we'll save for later. Right now we've got a pest infestation that needs exterminating." Dragon reminded, at the sound of distant shouts and screams that echoed from the lobby below.

Stalker came slinking back from around the corner and transformed into his human form continuing forward without pause.

He paused briefly, eyeing his teammate's still corporal patronus nearby. "Show off." He admonished, to which Wraith only shrugged and smirked unapologetically.

Stalker pulled up in front of Dragon and delivered his report loud enough for his comrades to hear as well.

"Volderpig and about thirty Death Dummies are entertaining Dumbledork's Order and about a dozen aurors in the main Lobby. They're not faring too well on the whole and Dumbles was beginning to tire when I left." He hastily added at seeing the Dragon about to ask how the battle fared. "There's several Dementors still lurking about, mostly waiting for someone to fall so they can grab a quick meal. Fenir Garybeck and some Order chap are half transformed and going at it over by the floo area."

Dragon ignored the gasp from Wraith nearby in recognition, nodding Stalker to continue his report.

"Several pockets of Unspeakables and aurors are engaged throughout the reception area and other ancillary offices as well as the Hall of Mysteries. We're doing well, but nobody is gonna make it to the main event before the show's over and Dark Dork knows it. He was monolouging his many supposed wonders when I left. I've never seen the blighter so happy." Stalker paused to consider that before adding. " Come to think of it,.. I never have seen him happy?"

Several of his team snorted appreciatively at that.

Dragon did the number in his head. _A dozen aurors was a plus. "The Order",(much good as they were), and his two teams against Voldemort and Thirty Death Eaters?_

_Poor bastards._

He turned toward Wraith about to ask...

"Go play." Harry informed his patronus, who snorted in anticipation before thundering away seeking Dementors to _play_ with.

Dragon nodded his appreciation and went with his second question. "Do you think you can keep your pal distracted for a few minutes while we get into position?"

Wraith nodded before downing a pepper-up with an appreciative smack of his lips in satisfaction after. He trotted off toward the atrium humming a more pleasant version of a common funeral dirge.

"And don't kill him.. maim only!" Dragon reminded to which Wraith just waved in acknowledging over his shoulder as he left, pulling back on his shrouding cowl.

"What, but you can't.. he'll be kill..?" Cho began to protest, but was cut off by Dragon reassuring her.

"He'll be just fine. It's Voldie-vermin that won't be having a good day shortly."

Griffon team mumbled their agreement along with him despite Cho's incredulous looks.

* * *

Wraith took up a position behind the half wall guard rail that ran the length of the first floor giving visitors a nice overhead view of the atrium's greenery and fountain.

A _disillusionment charm_ later and he was hanging over the dividing wall memorizing the position of the opposition. A few wounded aurors, bolstered by The Order were in a failing battle against twice their number in Death Eaters on the northwest corner of the atrium/ reception area. The aurors, though wounded, were the main opposition holding the Death Eaters at bay. They were throwing advanced debilitating curses, but their numbers were too few and dwindling rapidly. The only reason they were failing at all was because the "Order" were throwing the usual _disarming hexes_ and _stunners _whilst the Death Eaters were throwing around unforgivable and exploding hexes like they were free.

Every stunned Death Eater was hastily re-enervated and immediately went on the offensive using more and more lethal curses before finally just settling on a steady barrage of Unforgivables.

Kingsley and Tonks were the only Order members that were distinguishing themselves well. That and Lupin.

Remus and Greyback were battling in a half transformed state and neither was showing the least bit of mercy for the other. Claws ripped and tore, fangs bit cruelly into fur covered flesh and Werewolf enhanced strength and speed added to the harvest of pain they reaped upon one another. Make no mistake; neither was intending the other to live through the night.

Though worried enough to entertain aiding his dead parent's friend, Wraith decided against. Remus had earned the right a thousand times over to see to Greyback's end- personally. Should he win, Remus would earn himself not only the satisfaction in knowing Greyback would no longer terrorize others, that, and some measure of vengeance for himself. Should he lose.. Remus would be united with his lost friends.

Either way he would win, as far as Harry was concerned.

From the Hall of Mysteries a steady barrage of answering fire came for every hex the Death Eaters threw down the Hall. They were only trying to stall any advance, from the Unspeakables, until his supreme darkness was otherwise available or their fellows, decimated the remaining auror and Order contingent, were available to bolster their ranks.

Voldie and a few of his more unsavory inner circle members were otherwise engaged center stage where the supposed "Leader of the Light" was making a valiant last stand against the Dark. Reminiscent of the battle the waged at the end of the Ministry six's episode; Voldemort and Dumbledore had squared off for another battle royal.

Only this time, Voldie was cheating. Dumbledore was so engaged that he failed to notice the inner circle taking up vantage points to finish him off should he gain the upper hand, or start to if he did know what they were about there was little he could do about it, such was the onslaught of Dark Magic hurled by Voldewart.

There were four inner circle members circling behind Dumbledore, trying to position themselves such that their master was not exposed to the crossfire when they hit Dumbledore's exposed flank.

Wraith didn't like Dumbledore. He had no reason to, but for all that, he had to admit the Headmaster had found his courage these past many months and was giving Voldemort something to worry over, as evidenced by the dishonorable tactics of his faithful lap dogs.

As it was, the spirit was willing, but the flesh weak as Dumbledore was slowly losing ground to Voldemort, his age was finally catching up with him as it did with all in time.

Wraith suspected he knew going into it that this would be his final battle. Were it just Dumbledore and Voldie; Wraith would let them to it until the inevitable occurred and either Dumbledore's strength waned or Voldie made a mistake, however unlikely that.

But with the inner circle moving in for the 'dishonorable kill', well that was just something he couldn't abide.

Of the four, three he knew the identity of. The silver hand of one was obviously, Wormtail.

The long platinum hair sticking out from beneath his skeleton mask was that turd: Lucius Malfoy.

The female curves didn't give her away, but the mad cackling did from Bellatrix Lestrange and as to who the fourth was, he could care less.

But those three... those three and he had a history. He owed them and he intended to take his ounce of flesh.

By that he meant kill them. While he may prefer it to be a long and excruciatingly painful death, prudence called for expedience.

Pity that.

Though he would prefer Bella or Malfoy first; Remus deserved the satisfaction of having the traitor, Peter, precede him in death.

He preferred hands on, but if he were honest, Bella and Malfoy deserved his undivided attention, so a proxy or three would have to do.

Remaining disillusioned and casting a silencing charm on himself he hurdled the half wall landing between Bellatrix and Malfoy.

He immediately hit Bella with a blinding hex and a disarming charm . Then for good measure, he kicked her right between the legs, lifting her off the floor.

"Urghhhh!" she screamed in pain and shock.

"HA-HA-Ha" he laughed in a reasonable imitation of Malfoy's derisive, patronizing laugh at a victim's expense. Knowing my prey well, I quickly sidestep and headed for Peter on Bellatrix's left.

"You Bastard!" Bellatrix shrieked in outrage, launching herself in Malfoy's unwitting direction.

She snarled and clawed mercilessly at the bigot's face as he tried and failed to fend her off with one hand whilst trying to reason with her, but she was in too much pain and too agitated to listen.

Wraith toke up position behind Peter, seizing on the advantage of his being distracted by the show, and hits him with an "animagus revealos" causing Peter to instantly transforms into his rat animagus form.

A "stupify" later and Peter falls, oblivious to the danger he's in.

Wraith was intending to squash him beneath his boot, but Bellatrix comes stumbling by, having been thrown off Malfoy in a last desperate push, giving him an epiphany.

A quick transformation and Bellatrix is now a spitting cobra and spitting mad at that.

"_Eat the rat."_ I command in parseltongue and my new pet is only too happy to comply thinking she is following her master's orders as he's supposedly the only living parseltongue.

Jaws dislocate and Peter disappears from view within moments. Both Wraith, Malfoy and the fourth Death Eater watch in varying states of morbid fascination as the bulge that was Wormtail cracks and pop as his bones break and dislocate beneath the coiled pressure and slowly works its way down the length of the cobra.

Wasting no time on letting the cobra savor it's meal, Wraith grabs up the snack and cracks it whip like several times making sure to snap it's spine in the process.

Writhing maddeningly in its death throes he hurls the snake onto a too stunned to duck, Lucius Malfoy.

"No, arghhh!" his shock and disbelief turns to agonizing pain as the snake sinks it's fang into tender flesh again and again, taking vengeance for its fading life.

Malfoy finally manages to hurl the snake away, but it's too late for the both of them. Bellatrix writhes impotently for a few sparse moments before shuddering a last time and going still. She transforms back into her human form at the point of death, twisted at an odd angle from the spinal injury Wraith inflicted.

The fourth Death Eater drops to his knees clawing at her cooling corpse, gasping and begging "no" as her eyed turn glassy. Undoubtedly this is the mad cow's newly widowed husband.

Malfoy..? Now his finality is a spectacle to behold. He gags and froths at the mouth as the cobra venom works its way through his system. Pitching forward in the throes of a seizure, he squashes his nose and breaks out his front teeth on the atrium's stone tiles floor.

Blood and spittle pool from his broken mouth as he pitches wildly, clawing at his neck in a feeble attempt to get air. The cause of which is that his lungs have stopped working as they're paralyzed from the venom, a fact he's too panicked to note as he thrashes about until a final spasm and his maniacal eyes dim within his broken mask.

"Father!" another Death Eater from the Northwest reception area wails, breaking off his attack on the Order and racing across the atrium before his fellows can pull him back.

Fool that he is, or was, Draco runs right into the path of a killing curse meant for Dumbledore.

Wraith takes little time to ponder the pathetic end to a pathetic life, thinking it a shame that he, like his father and aunt, died far more quickly than their cruel lives deserved.

_All that talent and so much hate.. what a waste_. He considered briefly, a blasting curse nicking his shoulder spun him around, but didn't penetrate his robe's armor, only got his immediate attention.

As Voldie's back was currently to him, and Lestrange was mourning the damned, that left his Dumbleness as the likely culprit.

_Undoubtedly, his legendary marksmanship was over rated- right? _

Wraith chose to give him the benefit of the doubt in that maybe he was only trying to alert him to the danger sill around everywhere you looked. That and just get his attention as he was fading fast and need help. By the way Voldemort was gloating, he knew it too and was readying for the kill.

Wraith knew that it was only a matter of time before Lestrange recovered enough to seek revenge for his dead wife and he could ill afford to be engage with Voldemort when that happened lest he fall into the trap Voldemort had in mind for Dumbledore.

_Hopefully Dumble's could last a few more minutes_.

Wraith walked up casually toward Lestrange's sobbing shoulders and positioned himself carefully between Lestrange and Voldemort's dueling back. "Sorry about putting down your rabid bitch." he offered sarcastically.

His sorrow immediately forgotten, Lestrange seethed out an enraged "You Bastard- Crucio!"

Harry twisted to the side as Lestrange was just bringing his wand to bear the curse already flying before he could even think to stop it.

"No...!" he hissed in instant fear at seeing the trajectory of the hissing red light heading straight for Voldemort's exposed back.

"Milord watch Out!_" _he tried to warn too late.

"Argh!" Voldemort's back arch and he dropped like a puppet with its strings severed.

Dumbledore gasped in respite, panting heavily with his hands on his knees supporting himself. He was too tired to even consider conjuring a chair to rest on, which for his was very telling.

Voldemort thrashed and screamed. He was literally impaled upon his own sword as he was currently not enjoying the curse he so wantonly used upon others. Lestrange being no stranger to such _kind_ rewards.

Lestrange had put so much grief enhanced rage behind the curse that it was worthy of his darkness' own high powered ones and then some. His wand lay idle in his trembling hand as he gapped at his master's screaming and thrashing with less dignity then even the most craven of his Death Eaters.

"What have I done..?" he gasped in fear for the consequences of his actions knowing death would be his punishment for such an offense on his unforgiving master. He was too afraid to stop the curse, at this point, knowing that death would follow quickly once his master recovered.

His decision was an easy one. He ripped his Death Eater mask from his head, as his only resignation, casting it aside as he turned his own wand on himself and casting the killing curse, ending his misery.

Lestrange, whilst not a brilliant man by any stretch, knew that a life on the run, for however long he survived, was all he had to look forward would be a marked and desperate man. Whether by ministry capture or the Death Eaters, he was as good as dead either he took the coward's way out, denying both their just revenge as he turned his wand upon himself.

His death only served to end the curse he'd placed on Voldemort, though he'd been under a good minute and half and would not be recovering any time soon as he continued to twitch and spasm uncontrollably, groaning piteously.

Such it was with most bullies, they turn coward when faced with their own mortality. So much more his disgrace when he was still essentially immortal.

The snake yet lived and with it, its master, though he was probably rethinking that wisdom just now.

To say that Voldemort's condition and the fate of his inner,(now deceased), circle went unnoticed would be an exaggeration as the Atrium erupted in cheers that drifted down from above as his own teammates dropped their disillusionment charms, revealing themselves where they'd been riveted in place, having been mesmerized by unfolding drama below, not needing to intervene thus far.

They whooped and cheered shamelessly as Voldemort heaved up on himself for an encore.

His Death Eaters fled like rats from a sinking barge, sensing their own impending fates linked with their fallen master's immanent defeat.

They were wasting their time. Linked as they were to Voldemort through his Dark Mark, they would follow him in Death the instant his heart stopped beating. It was something the Unspeakables knew through research, but apparently the Death Eaters were wholly ignorant of. That and they knew from the adverse, just why Voldemort was so powerful and seemingly tireless.

Cheers went up like waves on the ocean as Death Eaters fled or surrendered outright, begging mercy or claiming the _imperious. _

Those fools found with the mark, claimingunwillingaction on their part by reason of _imperious_ _curse_ would be summarily _kissed _as the Dark Mark could not be taken without willing and knowledgeable consent and then only after having killed three muggles as a final act of initiation.

Wraith kicked Voldemort's wand away from his reaching grasp, ignoring the revelry erupting around him.

He wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill him so bad it ached deep down in the very bottom of his gut.

Pain clouded eyes that still radiated hate looked up into a faceless cowl. "You t-think you've won? You think I'm b-beaten?" he stammered out through his continuing spasms with as much venom as he could muster.

"Not yet." Wraith returned vaguely, puzzling the Dark Lord as he was clearly expecting him to gloat, as he would undoubtedly have if the tables were turned.

"I expect you to know the pain of defeat, become intimate with it, even. I expect you to live in pain filled fear waiting for death, begging for it, hoping with every last nuance of your being before it embraces you. I expect you to experience that, which you have all too often, forced upon your terrorized victims. "

"What do you know of pain, flea?" Voldemort spat at Wraith. Blood tinged spittle flew at Wraith's cowl, missing and sailing harmlessly past with no more than a slight inclination of his head to avoid it.

"Hmm, I know this hurts."

**Thump!**

"Wha..? Arggg!" Voldemort's pale hands shot to his pain filled groin as Wraith's boot just vacated the area.

"I always knew you had balls, Tom. I just never knew they were so small." he goaded as Voldemort gagged and threw up- again.

"That's enough, Ha.. er.. Wraith." Dumbledore hastily amended, stepping up alongside to scold him further."We do not torture fallen enemies."

"**We**... kill fallen enemies." Dragon clarified, he and his team stepping up to either side of the two, flanking Voldemort. "And besides, he was dumb enough to ask a rhetorical question."

Raven picked up the Dark Lord's wand and handed it to Dragon.

"I'll take that." Dumbledore blustered, trying to draw attention to himself as seemingly the duel's victor.

"You'll take an extended vacation, or you'll take a dirt nap." Dragon warned, handing the wand to Wraith.

"Here now?" a recovered and surprised Kingsley Shacklebolt protested, coming to his leader's defense.

Two of Griffon team flanked him. His superiors in every way, especially in training and strength.

"You, shut yer yap..." Dozer suggested.

"If you know what's good for you." Stalker added, transforming to his animagus and growling low in his throat, unsettling the large auror further.

"All of you, listen up?" Dragon commanded. "As head of the Unspeakables; I declare this first and foremost our purview. There is more to this than you may know, much more. There is also a history here that is not common knowledge. Forget what you see and hear or we'll help you forget." He glared meaningfully and was emboldened to see many swallow nervously at that.

"Now, back off!" With that last warning, the Dragon put up broad overlying privacy charms that both masked sound and view.

"Going to torture me?" Voldemort sneeringly assumed, surrounded and helpless as he was by a crowd of night blue Unspeakable cloaks.

"Love to. " Wraith loomed ominously over him, not really expecting to phase the creep but was that much more pleased when Voldemort's eyes shifted nervously around seeking any potential escape.

"Unfortunately," he amended. "..I've not got the time or patience to do the job right." he added regretfully.

"I do"- "Same here"- "I've got vacation time coming."- "I could put in for retirement, make a hobby of it."...There was no end of volunteers for that particular honor speaking up.

"It seems you've earned yourself a fan club your dark arseness." Wraith snorted appreciatively.

He snapped his fingers in revelation. "I know.. we could start a raffle? No,.. better yet? We'll sell tickets: a galleon a pop to take a whack at Tommy boy. Maybe put you in one of those muggle dunking booths they have at the carnival, only make it so you have to hit the target with a hex instead of a baseball. We could fill the water with grindelows to make it more interesting for when your arse hits the water."

"I think you're on to something there?" Dragon loomed over Voldemnort rubbing his chin as he considered the idea. "I bet we could make a real fortune if you could be a sport and hold your breath a long time to keep the game going, Tommy."

"D-Don't call me that." Voldemort shrieked indignantly. He was most unused to being the subject of ridicule and it showed as the pale, snake-like visage of the terrorist looked about to have a first rate 'toddler pouting session'.

"I think you kicked him too hard, Wraith. He whines like a girl now." Raven commented, his fellows snorting appreciatively at that, except...

"Hey now..?" came a quick complaint from Night Wisp's corner.

"Sorry.. er, _whines_ like a little girl." Raven amended sheepishly.

Night Wisp shook her head.

"Um.. _cries _like a bitch?"

Night wisps hand came forward vacillating back and forth as a sign of 'maybe'..

Raven shrugged, but Chameleon put in winningly... "Pouts like a priss!"

Night Wisp gave the thumbs up at that.

"Yes, we have a winner folks." Wraith cheered sportingly. He turned his attention back down at the seething Dark Lord and announced. "It's official Tom; you're a priss!"

Everyone snorted at his expense, further enraging him.

"Give me my wand and we'll see who has the last laugh?" he challenged with a snarl.

"Love to." Wraith accepted, twirling Voldemort's wand tantalizingly just out of reach.

"But first we need to discuss the particulars?"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed to red slits of fury before, surprisingly, he began to laugh. "What particulars?" he snorted chuckling darkly. "You face me you die, as will any other who dares take your place."

"Ah, such false bravado." Wraith swooned dramatically, eliciting derisive laughter from his comrades.

"Stop preening, Tom. You've no Death Eaters left to impress just now."

Voldemort growled angrily at the barb but wisely held his tongue as perhaps even he knew the truth in that statement.

"I'll be most intrigued to face your supreme dark-arseness in a duel."

Voldemort's hand came out expectantly in his eagerness to pursue such a venture, but Wraith pulled his wand back hesitantly, reminding.. "The particulars, remember?"

Voldemort scowled and his hand pulled back as he waited, nearly trembling in rage for having to do so.

"First off, I ask Dragon to second me?" at this he turned his cowl toward Dragon who nodded his agreement.

"You, seem a bit short on Death Eaters," he continued. ".. therefore I'll acquiesce to you're having your snake familiar second you. Should you act dishonorably, I'm sure that Dragon will have no qualms about killing you where you stand." He looked toward his commander who nodded most eagerly at that assumption. "Likewise, I'll submit myself to your familiar's bite should I misbehave, tempting though that is."

At this his fellows laughed uproariously.

"And why would I even consider such outlandish, er.. particulars?" he drawled sarcastically up from the floor, once the laughing had died down.

"Simple...You win... you go free. I win we take a picture of you kissing my arse, purely for posterity's sake, of course."

"Hmm, maybe that's posterior's sake?" he mused to himself. The Unspeakables erupted in laughter at that.

After a moment of feigned serious consideration, he decided. "No,.. judging by that mug of yours, I'd have to say it's for posterity's sake as I don't fancy a lipless smooch on my pride and joy from that snakey pie hole."

Laughter erupted again around them. Dozer was clinging to Stalker for dear laugh as he almost fell over, his laughter so intense.

Once things had calmed, a very much enraged Voldemort questioned dubiously, "I win and your comrades will just let me go.. just like that?"

"With your wand, in fact, however, we shall keep your pet as a sign of good faith whilst you return your captives, any and all captives, from this evenings merriment or otherwise. That is the price you pay for this generous offer."

"Generous offer, Bah!" the dark lord scoffed.

"I think so, considering we could just kill you outright, but what would the fun be in that? Me,.. I'm for transfiguring you into a toilet at King's Cross, so muggles could piss and shite in you all day, every day."

"Here-Here!"

"A beautiful sentiment!"

His fellows chorused along with many other like opinions.

If it was at all possible; Tom Riddle's face paled even further than what his white scaly complexion could seemingly allow for.

At length he decided it was a better offer than he was likely to receive otherwise, though in his mind he was already calculating how many of their number he could dispatch before he made an escape attempt."Agreed" he accepted in a bored tone and reached expectantly for his wand.

"Ah-Ah-Ah..." Wraith taunted, pulling the wand further out of reach. "The proprieties, if you please?"

Voldemort displayed a puzzled expression.

"Your familiar's presence is required?" Wraith reminded with a well schooled bland expression.

Voldemort's red slit eyes shifted about searching for a minion to collect his familiar, but no such Death Eaters were to be had in the vicinity, at least not living ones.

The aurors, that were still standing, had busied themselves with unmasking Death Eaters and piling their corpses off to the side like so much refuse. They set about the dread task with detachment. All were waiting for either the Dark Lord's imminent demise or at the very least, his incarceration, so that they could begin celebrating in earnest. They frequently cast curious glances toward the gathering of Unspeakables, wondering what could possibly be happening behind the privacy spells. Many hoped the Unspeakables were taking a much deserved 'pound of flesh' for the lives Voldemort had intentionally ruined.

They were about to get a shock.

"It would seem the rats have fled the proverbial sinking ship?" Wraith conjectured at seeing Voldemort's wary dismay at having been abandoned, yet again, as he was the night he had murdered the Potter parents.

With a motion from Wraith ; Dozer and Stalker unceremoniously yanked his darkness to his feet and held him fast by each arm. It was time to level the playing field.

"None may lay a hand upon me, scum..URK!" Voldemort's bark of outrage was abruptly cut off be a well placed knee to his still aching groin.

"Shaddup, yer pie hole." Dozer warned.

The Dark lord bit back on his usual promised threat of pain and death rather than risk more of the same type treatment. _They would all be sorry very soon. Very sorry, indeed._

The Dragon stepped up and asked in a 'no nonsense' tone of voice.. "Where is it?"It was time for Riddle to expose the secret behind his seemingly limitless power, literally so.

"Where is.. urg!" Voldemort's supposedly innocent response was met with extreme prejudice in the form of The Dragon's stiff fingers striking his Adam's apple.

Red glaring eyes, having never once cried in their existence, began to tear up as the Dark Lord gagged for air.

Rough hands pulled his robes apart and quickly found the object in question: Voldemort's own Dark Mark.

A raised, reddened obscenity of puckered flesh, on his right breast, that pulsed with each beat of the villain's own heart.

"The focal point for your Death Eaters protean charmed dark marks." Dragon announced, in grim satisfaction.

Dragon nodded to Chameleon and the anti-apparation wards they'd hastily placed over the atrium were removed.

The Dragon jabbed his wand into the mark and took immense satisfaction as the Dark lord writhed in agony as the Dragon used his mark against him to call what Death Eaters who'd still answer to their master's aid.

The display made it obvious as to why the Dark Lord preferred to use one of his lackeys to summon the other Death Eaters as it was an obviously excruciating process.

Eventually, two "pops" heralded the arrival of two torn and bleeding subordinates who looked as if they'd rather be anywhere else just now, but were too afraid of their master's wrath not to come.

"Kill the spare." Wraith instructed and Raven blasted one with a close range, high powered, _reductor_ that all but vaporized the nearest Death Eater before he could even bring his wand to bear.

Voldemort started at that, a distant memory jogged by the command Wraith had given.

The other Death Eater was given no more time to respond than the first and was laid low by three close range stunners from a few well meaning, but overzealous Unspeakables of Ghost squad.

"Oh for the love of...?" Dragon began to complain at seeing the state they left their planned dupe in.

Ghost shrugged apologetically as Shadow offered an obligatory.."Sorry, boss.", as he and his fellows set about trying to awaken the hapless fool.

It took a half dozen _enervates _ and a high potency _pepper up_ potion to get the Death Eater back on his feet and even than he wasn't exactly operating at peak efficiency as evidenced by the way he swayed on his feet and his eyes went in and out of focus.

Dragon slapped the man a time or two to get his attention, at least that's what it appeared to be that he was doing.

"Set all prisoners captured tonight and in the past free, Then, fetch your master's familiar and return here with it immediately- Got It?" Dragon shifted his attention back toward Voldemort and fixed him with an impatient glare of warning.

"Do it!" Voldemort hissed in a voice that promised mayhem if he wasn't obeyed.

The Death Eater nodded and disapparated without further question or delay.

While he set about his task, The Dragon set about leveling the playing field.

He returned his attention to the balefire eyes that looked upon them with the utmost contempt.

"Can't have you cheating now can we?" The Dragon mused with a predatory grin as he pulled a wickedly sharp appearing dagger from the folds of his battle robes.

Voldemort began to struggle desperately against Dozer and Stalker as Dragon's intention became clear.

"Thought we didn't know how things were, didn't ya? It's time you learned to fight your own battles Tommy boy."

"Noooo!" Riddle screamed out in pain and desperate fear, like all schoolyard bullies do when they eventually must face their mortality at the hands from their 'would be' victims.

Dragon sliced off the Dark Mark Foci over near Voldemort's heart and held the bloody scrape of , already darkening, flesh up meaningfully.

"The source of Riddle's supposed vast power. Dark Lord, indeed?" he ventured incredulously.

"You're nothing more than a parasite leeching off the magical power of your subordinates. This little bit of maggot food is the true Dark Lord here."

There were murmurs of agreement around him as the Dragon cast the bit of flesh away appearing revolted. He made a show of wiping his fingers off on his robes after, removing the taint from his flesh.

"You missed a piece boss?" Dozer informed his commander gesturing to a sliver of Dark Mark still present on the edge of the wound, near Riddle's right nipple.

"Might as well make a clean job of it?" Dragon mused as he grabbed the Dark Lord's nipple and began sawing away at the tattered flesh nearby. Voldemort screeched a high keening wail as Dragon's acute attention to detail resulted in his _accidentally_ pulling the blade back too hard and slicing off the Dark Lord's nipple in the process of extraditing the dark tissue.

"Oh, er.. sorry about that." he apologized, sounding anything but.

Whilst Voldemort was preoccupied; mewling and blubbering in pain, his servant returned with the giant Snake- Nagini, draped around himself. By the looks of things the snake was less than thrilled with being disturbed. The man was screaming in absolute panic while the snake's coils tightened around him in a crushing embrace that lacked any sense of affectionate intent.

"No.. ahh... gah ...Mmmphhh..." with a last gasp of breath being forced from his lungs the man dropped to his knees just as the loud snaps and cracks of his ribs breaking heralded his grisly end.

Purple faced and blood trickling from the Death Eaters nose and ears; he pitched face first into the floor and with a last shudder he stilled and the snake went to work devouring the wretch.

Jaws cracked open wide as they dislocated and slowly, inexorably the man's head and shoulders slid into the gaping maw. Coils constricted crushing bones to ease the passage and once his shoulders passed the snake's gullet, the rest slid more easily and expediently down.

Many bystanders turned away at differing points, but many more watched in grisly fascination, some even with begrudging respect for the snake's lethality ie...

"Whoa,.. Hey boss, can I keep her?" Stalker piped up.

Dragon shrugged indifferently. "You'll have to ask Wraith, he's got first dibs unless, of course, things go pear shaped, that is?" he hastily amended, seeing the Dark Lord beginning to recover.

"Seeesss- hathhh- faffffth-pssss" Voldemort called his snake to him desperately, much good as it did him to try.

So encumbered by its large meal, the snake's bulging belly allowed for only a few pathetic twists of its scaly hide before it stilled, lounging sleepily on the Atrium floor.

"It seems even your familiar has better things to do than save your worthless hide, Dork-mort." Wraith goaded, eyeing the snake appreciatively. His appreciation for said snake was for something other than its killing efficiency.

"Do you expect me to plead and beg to you for clemency you misbegotten tic." He waved his hand at his wounded chest. "This is as nothing, just as you are nothing. In mere moments you will be dead and I and my faithful will rise up greater and more terrible than ever before. The muggles will be killed by the thousands until they are no more than a forgotten memory. Mud bloods will follow along shortly after we play with them, a bit. Half bloods will be no more servant to appease our lives, slaves to our every whim and pleasure..Umphhh!"

"Glad to hear it, you can start by licking my boot clean-HALFBLOOD!" Wraith's booted foot connected with the Dark Lord's mouth in mid rave.

The Dark Lord rolled over with a growl wiping at his bleeding mouth as he rose angrily to his feet and spat blood and teeth in Wraith's direction.

"Pah... F-For that I will kill you slowly. I will saver your anguished pleas for mercy long before I release you from your insignificant life." he hissed out. His hand reached forward, beaconing his wand to his grasp.

The wand lurched in Wraith's grasp, but he he'd been expecting such and held on tightly against the pull of the _summoning charm_.

"Ah-Ah-Ah,..' Wraith brandished a finger at the enraged wizard. "First we have to establish the rules of our duel?" he reminded sportingly.

"Rules?" Voldemort spat on the floor to show his contempt at the notion. "Don't be absurd. We duel until one of us, namely you, falls in death. Say,.. about a half minute or so from now."

Wraith cocked his head in amusement to one side as if pleased with his dark arse's stance. "What of our seconds, will they not see to maintaining the honor of the duel? We wouldn't want anyone getting tempted and cheating now would we?"

Many of the Unspeakables chuckled darkly at the implication, knowing to whom Wraith was suggesting might act in less than an honorable fashion.

"I need take no such measures to deal with one such as you. The seconds are unnecessary." With that stated the Dark Lord swore on his magic that he would follow the rules of a _duel of honor_ and relinquished the necessity of having seconds.

He couldn't know it, but Wraith was grinning triumphantly at that. "Agreed"

He nodded to Dragon who immediately negated the privacy wards over the atrium allowing anyone in the vicinity the full view of the unfolding spectacle about to take place.

Wraith was relieved to see a ragged and torn Remus Lupin amongst the onlookers, being tended to by an Unspeakable medic. His place among the living told him that Fenir Greybeck was no longer a threat to children of Britain.

The Unspeakables withdrew with more reserve than one would expect given what was about to occur. It was something that Voldemrt failed to take note of; if he had he might be thinking more on escape at this point.

The balcony and sides of the atrium were filled with night blue uniforms, mixed in with the crimson of aurors and the individual robes of Order members, including a garish array of moon and stars on a wizard's hat with a long white beard poking out beneath.

Barricades of granite were conjured to block lethal spells and hexes from harming spectators.

The duelists could feel the tingle of anti-apparation wards reinforced along with a few other wards surreptitiously placed over the gathering by well placed Unspeakable operatives within the crowd. No one was leaving to chance Voldemort relying on less than savory means of dispatching an opponent regardless of any oath. Thus, _Anti-summoning charms_ were placed over all spectators, save one.

They withdrew the ten paces each and turned with wand held upward expectantly. As was customary, the Dragon asked if either opponent had a final request before commencing.

Wraith declined with a shake of the cowl he wore. Surprisingly, Voldemort requested that...

"I ask that my opponent remove his cowl so that I may see the face of my victim to savor in years to come?"

In accordance with the rule that any last reasonable request be met; Wraith pulled off his cowl revealing unfamiliar blonde hair and blue eyes as Dragon shouted: "Begin"

Wraith launched his cape and cowl into the air where it swirled upward toward an unsuspecting Voldemort.

"Avarda- Kedvara!" Voldemort bellowed firing the killing curse toward Wraith who immediately summoned the Dark fool's snake to him and used it as a shield, absorbing the killing curse.

A blackened cloud of wailing evil rose from the dead snake's carcass, stunning the crowd around them to speechless terror as many now realized just what the hated Dark Lord had done to prolong his vile existence.

"Nooo!" Voldemort shrieked in rage and despair realizing his mistake, too late, in being cleverly manipulated into foregoing the requisite of seconds, which effectively nullified his familiar's safety.

Wraith used his distraction to twist his wand upward at his drifting cloak as it descended toward his stunned opponent

"Transmuto" Wraith whispered, hitting the cape in midair and watched as it thickened and expanded into leathery, wing-like appendages with hook like barbs surrounding a gapping, sucking maw beneath dozens of blood red eyes.

He'd transformed his cape into a lethifold. Lethifolds were distant, more primordial cousins of dementors.

Voldemort had barely enough time to scream out in terror, let alone bring his wand to bear before the lethifold folded over him, the barbs sinking cruelly into pasty white flesh as its mouth clamped on his exposed chest and the sound of a wet sucking filled the atrium, horrifying the spectators as the lethifold began to feed wantonly.

Arms flailed wildly, punching and clawing at the wing like appendages to no avail as the barbs had latched on and held fast, securing the horror in place..

Grunts of effort slowly morphed into shrieks of pain and terror as the wet sucking sound intensified. Voldemort's legs kicked and thrashed helplessly as he tried to dislodge the vampiric creature that was tearing away his supposed immortality.

The thrashing and wailing soon died down to groans of resolve as wizard's strength drained away and he succumbed to the inevitable.

Wraith waited to the last possible moment before cancelling the transmutation spell and the lethifold transformed back into an Unspeakable's cape and cowl that blanketed the dark swine like a Death Shroud.

Cheers erupted from the balcony and echoed throughout the atrium and Ministry building's interior, the duel having been decided in one quick stroke.

Wraith calmly strode forward and picked up the Dark Lord's fallen wand, pocketing it for safe keeping.

With the tip of his own wand he nudged the shroud aside and smirked at the irony that Voldemort's body was _riddled_ with gaping wounds.

Glazed, barely conscious eyes that were filled with misery and despair still faintly registered his presence. Blue eyes that were glowing emerald green at their centers triggered other memories of another hated foe as Wraith loomed over his fallen foe. The fallen Dark Lord was pulled from his memories by Wraith goading..

"What, you didn't think you'd be allowed to die that easily did you? Pucker up, dark dick, it's time for a photo op!"

With a last piteous moan, Voldemort shuddered at what that portended before he lapsed in unconsciousness.


	9. Chapter 9: For hate's sake

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**A/N: That's it,.. I mean that's it, people! So many of you have written me to complain and whine that Nagini died last chapter? "Did I miss something?" "I'm confused" ect.. some of you have been downright rude and obnoxious suggesting I'm on drugs or have an adled memory. If you aren't going to read closely tah don't complain that you don't understand what's going on. I highlighted the part that so many of you missed. This isn't a broshure at the DMV so don't skim it. MK**

**CHAPTER NINE: For hate's sake...**

Corded muscles strained to the point of breaking as tendons popped and ligaments ground against bones in protest as they struggled to obey their master's will. There was the chain, the anchor in the ceiling and his will that both should yield to his demands. He pulled again, gritting with effort before finally being rewarded with a wisp of dust drifting down from overhead as the anchor fought against the mortar it was imprisoned in. He renewed his efforts as he'd done thousands of times already. What else was there to do? He could succumb and eventually die or he could win his freedom even albeit temporarily.

He'd decided from the start that it would be the latter.

Sweat dribbled down his forehead, his hair already soaked with it. The air dank with the stench of his labors, that and smell of blood and scorched flesh.

He stirred at the sound of boot falls echoing down the hall, realizing his tormentor's were coming for yet another round of _questioning._

That's what they liked to call it, but really it was just another round of mocking and ridicule. They never seemed to tire of it. It was pointless on the whole as he never took the bait and let their demeaning comments fall unchallenged, not that he could currently offer any sort of challenge as such.

When they tired of mocking then the torture began. He didn't know why they even bothered as they lacked any imagination. It was all designed to weaken his resolve so that he would eventually lose focus and then they would set their legillmens loose on his addled mind, hoping to glean his secrets in a moment of weakness.

They were wasting their time. He was beyond such petty torments and amateur attempts to read his well guarded thoughts. His defenses were as impenetrable as they were unique in their devise and easily got the better of his tormentors in that they would eventually lose their composure in their frustration in trying and failing to break into his mind.

If these were the supposed best the wizarding world supposedly had to offer than why even bother to resist. They would doom themselves on their own in time.

The manacles his wrists hung by bit cruelly into raw and bruised flesh. He didn't really notice them anymore. He found that if he concentrated they made an adequate means of maintaining his arm strength, by doing sets of pull-ups, which would prove important if the chance presented itself to liberate one of his captor's wands.

Once he had a wand then things would be different. Then they would know the true meaning of pain. They would know what it was to fear.

They would know who held true power and who did not.

The iron door of his cell scraped open against the well worn flagstone floor benath. It was a grim reminder that this particular suite had seen its fair share of use over the years. The cell was deep within the bowels of the building above, some several floors removed from the business of everyday life.

He wondered how many others of his associates and sympathizers he could liberate from this place once the opportunity presented itself. If their shouts of denial and screams of pain were anything to go by, then there were many who would join him when the time came.

His cell, if one could call it that, was little more than a stone room some ten by ten foot square that would have proved dank and dark were it not for the glowing coals of the brazier that kept the enclosure dimly lit and stiflingly warm twenty four hours a day, every day. Though time was not a measurement he currently had the luxury of knowing. He could have been here some six hours or six weeks for all he knew.

He suspected it was somewhere in the vicinity of six weeks as judged by being fed about once a day followed by a bracing shower, ( he was doused by a bucket of cold water), when they were feeling sympathetic or at least they could no longer stomach the smell of his burnt and sweating body. When they weren't feeling so generous; he was hit with high powered _cleaning charms_ that felt like sandpaper rubbing his flesh raw and setting his nerve endings on fire.

Other than those niceties his days were filled with a haze of pain, then questions , followed by both subtle and not so subtle attempts to read his mind and learn what secrets he held that would give the opposition more than a fair chance of turning the war to their favor.

Two there were that entered his humble abode. One proceeded to ask if he was awake by kicking him between the legs whilst the other poked at the burning coals ominously with an already glowing poker that he tested by dropping a bit of parchment on it and watching it instantly go up in flames for dramatic effect.

His robes were charmed against fire, in that they would not burn, that however did not indicate that he too was fire retardant.

They could not remove his robes and they had tried, but were unable to circumvent the charms. Long and hard they had tried to no avail. Now, they contented themselves to inventing new ways to reap harm upon the flesh beneath. One such was holding a hot iron to his robed body to see how long he could endure before they got a reaction.

If it was a reaction they enjoyed, they sought to repeat the process with fervor. If the reaction was less than what was hoped for, they sought new ways to get the reaction they wanted.

It was sort of a trial and error system of improvement; one that he easily used against them.

Sometime he would cry out and beg mercy when in fact he could readily tolerate whatever it was they were doing. Thus they would repeat the process and he would reward their supposed ingenuity with more of the same.

That had worked well enough, for a while, until they had finally caught on to his duplicity. It was inevitable that they would as lab rats could be conditioned and they were perhaps only a step or two above such limited understandings.

Yes, he saw his captors as the test subject in this scenario.

Particularly painful experiments were met with cool indifference that usually resulted in his tormentor's losing interest and moving on to other methods. This too was eventually figured out and their efforts were immediately redoubled.

To this he would mix responses to throw them off their game. Sometimes he let himself go and responded honestly; crying out in anguish. Other times he laughed in the face of his tormentors or goaded them.

He was particularly good at goading.

Without fail, however, he never- ever, let them into his mind. If they ferreted out his secrets the game was over. His hopes and schemes would be laid waste and he would soon follow in the wake of their destruction.

They could not know the secret of his existence or his base of operation and the identities of his fellows. If they learned these things then all who followed him were as good as dead, himself along with them.

What mattered pain compared to that. His pain was his lifeline. It was a reminder that he yet lived and that there was still a chance that he would continue to do so.

His morbid thoughts of continued existence were interrupted by hiss of hot steel against sweating palm and the acrid smell of burning flesh assaulted his olfactory senses.

His hands pulled uselessly at his chains and he bit down on the inside of his cheek to the point of drawing blood as he refused to so much as grunt in pain.

The poker was removed and despite his best efforts, to mask his reaction, he slumped in relief.

Immediately he was assaulted by not one, but two wizards trying to break into his thoughts simultaneously.

**He rewarded their efforts with his latest fictional account of his foe's supposed defeat.**

**After several minutes, one pulled his consciousness back and spat in disgust, whilst another laughed openly.**

**"You delude yourself that the Dark Lord could fall so easily to something as inconsequential as a lethifold,..er.. Wraith is it?"**

The other was less patient in that he back handed Wraith across the face and spat angrily. "You dare mock the Dark Lord's prowess... you who know better than most the folly of challenging the greatest wizard in the world!"

"Puh-lease... Filtch is a better wizard than Volde-whatsit. The man only knows three curses, ie... the killing, torture and imperious... now what use are those compared to a nice heavy bristled push broom? He's got nothing on Argus Filtch."

"You'll pay for that, dog!"

_And he did._

That bit of cheek cost him another round of facial reconstruction. His cowl may protect his identity but it did nothing but serve as a target to someone intent upon breaking as many facial bones as inhumanly possible.

For not being able to see his face, the Death Eaters had done an admirable job of inflicting damage to eyes, nose, jaw and ears on a frequent basis.

Neither made mention of the notion that Voldemort's mark was parasitic to their own marks as he'd aptly included in this last false memory. That fact alone was telling as he could see they shared a concerned look between them. This along with other clever tidbits in past sessions was effectively sowing the seeds of doubt. Whether true or no, they were beginning to question and that was definitely not something Voldemort could afford.

He had done well against Voldemort in their all too brief duel and had toyed with the notion of killing him outright even though the snake and the horcrux it held made the notion a mute point, but it was still tempting.

What happened shortly after he entered the fray was a mystery, but somehow, someway, a stunner had found its way into contacting the small of his back and after that his vacation amongst the opposition had begun upon being awakened.

If he were to guess; Dumbledore must have _accidently _hit him with a stunner whilst trying to champion the light's cause and come to his supposed defense.

He spent what moments he had before exhaustion and, or pain caused him to lose consciousness, fantasizing over what he'd do to the venerable Headmaster once he got out of his current predicament.

Let's just say that Dumbles should have taken the suggestion of retirement to heart.

Once he went limp, feigning unconsciousness, the Death Eaters immediately lost interest and left his cell to undoubtedly pursue victimizing others down the line.

In years past he would have taken more harm upon himself to spare others, now he knew by experience that it was a matter of survival.

Both he and any others currently being held, by Voldie and his minions, would only make it out of here alive if he facilitated their escape. For that to happen he needed to preserve what strength he could which meant others would have to share the brunt of the Death Eater's tender mercies.

From what he could remember' he'd killed Pettigrew, Malfoy senior and junior by proxy, Bellatrix and then Bellatrix's equally warped husband had turned his wand on himself rather than face Voldie's wrath for accidentally hitting him with a torture curse.

Dumbledore no doubt new Nagini was a horcrux and had gambled accordingly to preserve his unearned reputation as the Light's Champion and establish his place in history. Probably thinking he could eliminate the snake after at his leisure. The Death Eaters would undoubtedly bolt once their master fell, leaving the snake alone and unprotected.

The man was the proverbial 'wolf in sheep's clothing'. He was a parasite worthy of Voldemort, himself.

As to Voldemort,.. he was still alive and kicking as even he deigned to _question_ Wraith now and again with the use of his penchant for the torture curse and his not insubstantial legillmens ability.

He'd found out first hand that Snape had been accurate in his assessment of Voldemort's skill in this area.

Despite that, Voldie hadn't gotten in as Wraith had come up with the defense of projecting false memories of his foe's defeat during their duels.

Whilst this did, in fact, infuriate said Dark Lord, it also caused him to lose focus and fail in penetrating Wraith's memory on that and many other occasions since.

Voldemort rarely came to make the attempt anymore as he couldn't afford to show weakness in front of his Death Eaters. They were already reeling from the failed coup at the Ministry. From what grumbled conversations he'd overheard, when they thought him unconscious from their ministrations, the loss of the Malfoy wealth had cost them a great deal financially. Between that and the loss of many inner circle members had many low level Death Eaters rethinking their own career choices.

If Voldemort ever found out that he was Harry Potter; his life, or continued life, would be over in a trice.

* * *

Amelia Bones, Minister of Magic and aunt to Susan Bones, had barely sat her weary self down to a late supper when Susan entered the kitchen with purpose to ask a simple one word question.

"Anything?"

Amelia shook her head sadly in the negative, her heart breaking at the way her beloved niece seemed to deflate a bit more after each such answer.

Since the night of the attempted ministry takeover she had been in a perpetual state of heightened anxiety. Actually, her moods had been in turmoil since shortly after the previous Christmas Holiday.

She would not admit to such, but Wraith's departure then had profoundly affected the girl.

Wraith's questionable capture, by the Dark Lord himself, had put not only the Unspeakable's, but Susan as well, on heightened alert. Each for similar reasons, but the depth of emotion for said reasons was the difference between the two.

The Unspeakable's remained concerned, but wholly professional. Susan had soldiered on, partially to occupy her thoughts lest she despair. The main reason though is that she knew Wraith would be disappointed if she gave into her feelings and let them rule her. So she continued on with her studies and had achieved her Charms Mastery, but the accomplishment had seemed somewhat hollow in that she could not share her success with one who had helped her achieve it. Over time her hope had further waned as all attempts to ascertain Wraith's location, let alone if he were even still alive- failed..

The reason his initial capture was questionable, was because of an ill timed and poorly aimed stunning spell, by Albus Dumbledore himself, had struck Wraith down. The resulting distraction had afforded, the all but captured, Dark Lord a window of escape.

He took that window of opportunity and he took Wraith, as well, out of spite.

The Unspeakable's had _questioned_ captured Death Eaters, raided Death Eater safe houses, followed Death Eater money trails and any other clues yielded that might aid them in finding their captured friend. They even, in a fit of desperation, attempted forms of scrying to divine his location, but nothing useful was ever gleaned.

The one thing they knew for certain was that he hadn't divulged any of their secrets as no attempts to infiltrate the Dept. Of Mysteries, by secure routes known only to Unspeakables, had been attempted by the opposition and surely they would have made the attempt with all expediences before codes and passwords were alternated to prevent just such an occurrence.

They were that proud of him, knowing as they did that he would have suffered greatly for defying the Dark Lord. They were also saddened, knowing as they did that Voldemort would not tolerate such defiance lightly.

"He's dead, isn't he?" Susan asked pointedly, her face mimicking the resolution of finally in accepting what the most of the Ministry had already assumed with heavy hearts.

Amelia sighed, pushing her cooling casserole aside as her appetite vanished along with her hopes.

She didn't want to give her niece false hope, but some part of her still did just that; cling to hope.

If it had been anyone else she would have given up on them long ago, but Potter?

At length she answered her waiting niece. "It's .. likely, but there's always hope."

Susan nodded half heartedly, but her face betrayed her thoughts to the contrary. There was doubt there, but one of a different sort.

"If I asked you something, would you tell me the truth...?" she asked tremulously, pleading as she added with pain filled eyes."Just this one time?"

Amelia had expected this from the onset of Wraith's capture and everyday she despaired that today would be the day that Susan would finally broach the subject.

"Susan, I... it's not that I don't want to?" she struggled to reiterate the need for privacy and security inherent in her position, but Susan cut her off in a choked voice filled with remorse and regret.

"W-Who was he really? Please, auntie, I have to know? I...I need to." she added tremulously, her eyes filled with emotion.

Amelia wanted to tell her. She wanted to explain everything. She wanted to beg her to hang on to her hope no matter how seemingly farfetched that seemed. In the end, however, she hid behind her office.

"He wasn't Draco Malfoy." she confided, as Susan had once wrongfully assumed in a fit of pain and revulsion.

Susan rolled her eyes at that. "I realized that long ago and not because Malfoy was found dead in Death Eater garb after the battle at the Ministry. I remembered having bumped into him after running away from Wraith _that_ night.

Susan rarely referred to the night in question when Wraith had pushed her away and she had been too distraught at the time to realize he was doing just that.

"Please,.. auntie...?" she pleaded, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears. "If he's really dead, then what does keeping the secret matter anymore?" she tried to rationalize.

"Because... he's been dead before..." Amelia answered pointedly, shocking Susan to her very core.

Susan shuddered uncontrollably. Her aunt wanted to reach across the dining table and pull the young woman into her arms, but realized she needed a moment to try and work through this, not that anyone really could.

Susan wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse, clarifying..."You m-mean assumed d-dead?"

Amelia shook her head. "I mean dead, Susan." she answered with dread certainty.

Susan didn't know what she expected, but it hadn't been that. "B-But magic can't bring back the dead?" she argued in disbelief.

"No,.. it can't." her aunt agreed solemnly.

"B-But how...?" she gasped in shock.

Amelia offered a wan smile at that. "That's not for me to say. There are greater, much greater forces at play here than our humble understanding of nature can comprehend. Voldemort is one such example, albeit an evil one. Wraith, however, is another." She was being intentionally vague, but there was still a grain of truth in what she revealed. Susan may not like it or even understand it's meaning, but she was at least being truthful with her.

"He...H-He's not really a wraith? I mean, not really.. it's just a code name...isn't it?" Susan grasped uncertainly.

Amelia smirked at that. She along with many others 'in the know' appreciated the irony of Harry Potter's code name within the Unspeakables.

"Is it?" Amelia demurred. "All the Unspeakable's code names have some measure of significance to the operative in question."

Susan goggled at that. She would have assumed the opposite to be intentionally misleading.

Still struggling with the concept, she blurted out almost to herself.. "But a wraith?"

Amelia's grin deepened as she gave more clues without seeming to do so.

"A wraith is by definition an avenging spirit. I can think of many who might want revenge against Voldemort and his ilk? Furthermore, I should think the desire for such would be so great that even returning from the grave would prove little detriment to some."

At first puzzled by such a pronouncement, Susan eventually came to a startling consideration.

Abruptly she ended dance of words they were engaging in to ask outright what her heart kept whispering to her to not believe. "Is Harry Potter dead?"

As relieved as she was that Susan was finally starting to put the pieces together, she still balked at fully disclosing Harry's continued existence, such as it is.

With firm resolve, she took the politician's way out and answered truthfully. "His body was destroyed after he passed, Susan. I can say with all honesty that those were indeed Harry Potter's ashes that we spread after his funeral."

It was as much a lie as it was the truth in that his body had perished, however, was Harry Potter dead?

Some part of Amelia clung to the belief that he endured, though what that could mean for him wounded her to her soul to even contemplate.

She wanted to tell Susan that he was alive, she wanted to very much, but... _was he?_

Susan's bright eyes fell at that as she nodded her head mournfully and the tears came again.

* * *

Brown eyes watched as her surrogate family played quidditch in the backyard as they did every Sunday after brunch.

Two pairs of brown eyes enjoyed the distraction,... as best they could. One was filled with remorse, the other with a broken heart.

_He would have loved this. _Both thought dejectedly.

Next week would be the thirty-first of July. She and Ron would pay their respects, as they always did to his parent's gravesite where Harry's ashes had been spread, but as per his wishes, no marker acknowledged his passing.

They would lay a wreath of white roses over James and Lily's gravesite with a single red rose in the middle of the wreath for Harry. Remus would probably show up at some point and they would spend a difficult afternoon reminiscing over better times with those they'd loved and lost, but were still forever in their hearts.

Hermione cheered when Ron made a spectacular save off of one of Ginny's shots, earning herself one of his appreciative smiles and a wink that promised a more personal thank you later.

He enjoyed the game, loved it even, but for all that, he didn't seem to enjoy it, _really enjoy_ it as he once had.

Neither did Ginny for that matter. They both missed playing with Harry. Neither would ever mention it other than to say: "I wish Harry was here" or.." Harry would've like that", but they would never come right out and accept the fact that nothing was quite the same since he'd passed.

_Passed? _Hermione hated that. It was such a nice, generic way of covering for what really happened.

_What really happened? _She'd never known and doubted she ever would. Not all of it anyway.

**(Flashback)**

She'd awakened in the infirmary to find Ron staring blankly as Ginny sobbed despondently in his arms. A horrified expression was etched in every nuance of his normally handsome, smiling face.

Neville was holding Luna, who tears were buried in Neville's shirt as he rubbed supportive circles on her back. Hermione could see he back shaking as wracking sobs tore from her muffled throat.

The Weasley brothers were milling about, snuffling softly as they watched over their youngest siblings with profound expressions of regret and sadness.

Her heart clenched in her chest as she briefly pondered what could possibly have...?

Suddenly she realized with a gasp that one of their numbers was conspicuously absent.

"Where's Harry?" she gasped in sudden dread.

She'd asked no one in particular, but it was her mother who answered tremulously, perched at her bedside.

"H..He's dead, Hermione."

Hermione's head spun in her direction, the denial already tumbling out..."N-No.. no, he's fine. He wasn't even hurt in the battle. He was fine?!" she half asked, half demanded they acknowledge as still being a fact.

Her mother shook her head, but dissolved into tears and couldn't answer her daughter's stunned denial.

Gratefully, her husband grasped her shoulder supportively and tried to explain, what they had no right to try and explain as far as Hermione still considered to this very day, years later.

"He... we.." he amended, gulping in dread before continuing.. "we were in shock.. you and the others were hurt and...? We just needed to decompress and regroup. We never meant anything permanent..we .. he wanted to visit and.. well..." he struggled and gestured toward the guilt ridden faces of the Weasley parents nearby as he continued. "we needed a bit of time to go over things and set some ground rules to protect all of you. You nearly died, Hermione..." He left off helplessly.

Hermione's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What did you do?" she asked in cold disdain.

Ginny wailed loudly in response to her question.

"We... we wouldn't let him in to see you... we didn't m-mean for it to be a punishment or even permanent, but he was hurting so badly.. we didn't realize..what with his g-godfather dying..." her father answered haltingly, with more courage than he knew he possessed.

Hermione stared blankly at her parents. Her father realized in that moment that as long as he lived he would never forget the look of absolute horror on his daughter's beautiful face.

Her letters home were always filled with two things: Ron and Harry. They were her best friends, her world. They had hoped and prayed that the magical world would be a new opportunity for their daughter. They'd hoped that she would make friends as she hadn't been able to before as her peers in primary school were always so jealous of her heightened intelligence.

She had though. She'd made wonderful friends. Friends that would go anywhere, risk anything for her and each other.

Now, an entire third of her life had been taken from her by the thoughtlessness of others. They, and the Weasley parents like them, had forgotten that their children were more than those born to them, but also those they shared their childhood with.

"N-No.. No he wouldn't. He was fine. He has friends,.. they wouldn't.. Harry's strong he wouldn't...?" Hermione struggled in denial.

"They banished him from Gryffindor." Neville added in a dead monotone that had Ginny wailing louder before she finally, blessedly, fainted as her mind shut down from the torrent of grief that she could no longer weather.

"What?" Hermione asked blankly, shrugging off her mother's reaching hands as if they were an annoyance.

"Gryffindor house banished him for what happened,.. our getting hurt. Finnegan and company used it as an excuse to vote him out." Neville continued with a snarl of outrage, his face darkening further with each hateful word.

"Voted... him... out..?" Hermione questioned absently, staring blankly at the floor as she tried to grasp what she was hearing.

Ron had just finished pulling the covers, from his own bed, over his unconscious sister. He slumped down in the chair that was across from her parents, shooting them a look of utter revulsion before grasping Hermione's hands and finishing gently, but with no little contempt for their parents.

"They kicked him out , Mione. Between that and this lot turning him away... he.. the Astronomy tower..." he left off meaningfully, unable to actually say the words.

"Nooo...!" Hermione gasped and bolted from the infirmary. Her parents were about take off after her in concern, but a look from Ron and Neville froze them in their tracks.

They eventually found her where they knew they would; kneeling next to blood stained grass that would never support life again. The outline of their friend embedded into the broken earth a sad testament to what should have never been.

Luna clung desperately to Neville as Ron looked on in horror over Hermione's shoulder.

She pawed hesitantly at the stained lawn, nearly whispering in a keening wail of absolute heart ache. "Oh baby.. noooo..."

She begged at the stained earth beneath her fingers before she broke down into sobs of denial. "You can't be dead.. you c-can't...?"

Ron's arms circled her shoulders as he knelt down behind her and pulled her to his chest to comfort her, needing her comforting presence as much in return as tears tracked silently down from his blue eyes.

For hours they kept silent vigil, praying that this was all just a bad dream.

**(End of flashback)**

Hermione watched her future sister in-law pump her fist in celebration after scoring a goal against her big brother. Her fingers idly played with the ring on her left third finger. As grateful and happy as she was that Ron and she were marrying, she was that sad too that Harry was not going to be there with them. She wouldn't see Harry standing at Ron's left when they said their vows. No shared dance at their reception. No last hug before they left for their honeymoon.

**No** godfather for their child when the time came. She could not reconcile to having anyone but Harry stand as such. Even Neville, good man and loyal friend that he was, couldn't take Harry's place in her heart. It was selfish of her, she knew, but that was how she truly felt when she was honest with herself.

It was always hard for everyone this time of year, but for some reason it seemed worse this year. It was like some small piece of her heart was pulling away as if they were losing him a second time, but that wasn't possible. Harry was gone and no magic could bring him back.

* * *

His shoulders and chest were on fire as he pulled inexorably down, applying constant unwavering pressure. Either the chain would break or he would. There was no more time to spare as the endless weeks of torture were taking their toll- he was weakening. Perhaps not so much physically, (though that was debatable), but his mind was succumbing to the strain. Another session or two and they would break past his occulomency shields and his thoughts and memories would be laid bare for scrutiny.

That done and Voldemort would waste no time in killing him; only after _entertaining_ him further-personally.

Finally, miraculously, the chain's mooring gave way and collapsed to the dungeon floor in a horrific clatter of clanking chain and crumbling mortar that was sure to alert his captors.

Wasting no time on trying to massage life back into his aching limbs, he negated the concealing charms and ripped off his stifling cowl to drink in the musty air as if it were as refreshing as an ocean breeze. He scratched liberally at his itchy scalp, clawing through his sweat damp, tangled locks, relishing in the simple pleasure of being able to scratch away a simple skin irritation.

At times he didn't know what was worse; the torture, the constant assaults on his mind, or not being able to so much as scratch himself in relief.

At this point he couldn't care that he was still in shackles within a locked room with who knew how many in the opposition just beyond the steel door between him and another step toward freedom.

The sound of footsteps rapidly approaching brought him back to the task at hand. He hastily took up position on the side closest the opening door, rather that behind as they no doubt expected him to try and get the jump on them from behind. He would if their roles were reversed.

A click of the lock and the door slammed open, expecting to catch and crush whomever might be hiding behind it.

A wand breeched the portal. His hand shot out and grabbed the wrist holding the wand and yanked it forward.

"What the...? Urk!" a length of chain slipped over the surprised Death Eater's head and bit cruelly into his throat as he tugged with as much fervor as he had when he's pulled the same from the ceiling.

His desperate pull spun the startled man into his grasp as he clamped a manacled hand around the man he'd captured, using him as a shield, just as another wand behind came to bear. Whatever spell his captive was going to use was now augmented by two hands upon it, channeling both wizard's magic into the same wand at the same time.

The second wizard was subsequently obliterated in a shower of gore that caught a third Death Eater, newly arrived on the scene, completely off guard. He'd barely managed to comprehend the activity before him before his comrade blew up in his face, blinding him with blood and gristle.

Wraith grabbed the back of his captive's hood and slammed the man's head into the stonewall with as much strength as he could muster, feeling the flesh and bone beneath crumple on impact. The man would never rise again to torture and torment.

Wasting no time he liberated the man's wand and shot an overpowered stunner into the third before he could reorient himself. He needed the third alive as he would provide him the desperate time he required to effect his escape. With two quick waves of his _borrowed_ wand, he vanished the mess of the second and the body of the first. A quick _scourgify _cleaned the third's Death Eater garb of the second's blood and gory remains.

He needed the man's robes, just as he needed the man himself.

He pulled off the unconscious Death Eater's mask and did a double take.

_Talk about a birthday present?_

He didn't, couldn't know if it was his birthday yet or not, but he knew it was roughly close to that time of year.

With an evil sneer, reminiscent of the man at his feet, he hastily removed his tattered Unspeakable uniform and then swapped with his captive.

He left the man's cowl down because he wanted to see his expression once he woke him.

For expedience sake, he left him unconscious whilst he made sure the man's body mimicked his own. By that he needed to ensure the proper bruises, lacerations and abrasions showed through where his torn uniform allowed such views. Unblemished flesh would give away the change in captives as surely as a revealed face.

He methodically noted where he was bruised and cut, making sure his captive's injuries mimicked his own.

He took great pleasure in a 'hands on approach', feeling it was the least he could do to repay Severus Snape's past kindnesses of which there were so many at his expense.

Once satisfied with the man's outward appearance he cast a silencing charm over the cell and re-enervated his captive for a bit of catching up.

He could've used a wand, but this way was more personal and he felt he owed him that much consideration.

"Wakey-Wakey Professor Snapey!" he ryhmed smugley as he slapped the man awake.

Snape's beady eyes came around, at first clouded and confused until clearing and growing wide in alarm once oriented.

That was quickly followed by a hiss of pain once his many abrasions made themselves known.

"Sorry about that." Wraith apologized, sounding anything but. "Had to make sure you presented the right image to your comrades in arms, so to speak."

"You won't get away with this." he snarled angrily, his own hands pulling down on the manacles that were now holding him in place, courtesy of a quick repairing charm.

"I think- I will." Wraith returned assuredly. "I've had ample exposure to your particular, albeit revolting persona and should do a better than favorable job of acting the part of Severus Snape-Death Eater, Supposed Spy for the Order of the Chicken-Potions Master- Pretend Professor- Greasy Git and all around bully. I'm sure there are many other distasteful roles you play, but for expedience's sake, I digress.**"**

Snape yanked at his chains in an impotent attempt to lunge for his captor's throat, serving only to aggravate his many wounds and pulling back with a grimace, panting in pain.

Wraith clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Such a display of temper and you a supposed role model for school children and all?" he admonished. "Save your strength as there will be many such attempts for you to display such defiance in the near future. You see, you're going to unwillingly playing my role, whilst I use your costume and attitude to bluff my way out of this den of inequity."

"You'll be caught out and then your suffering will be legendary. I'll simply tell my fellow DeathEaters who I am and the ruse will be over in a trice." he ventured defiantly, his own face wearing the characteristic sneer that he was so well known for.

Wraith feigned contemplating this with a worried expression. "I suppose you could?" he answered at length before clarifying the folly of that plan. "If you were actually able to talk."

"What're you-Urk!" Snape barely had a scant moment to register his surprise before uttering the painful gasp that would end up being his final words in this life.

Wraith's fingers stiffened and he struck with lightning efficiency, his finger tips rupturing Snape's voice box.

Whilst Snape coughed and gagged frothing up blood and phlem; Wraith calmly went about pulling his cowl up over the man's head and reinstituting the concealing charms that would hide the wearer's identity.

He waited patiently until Snape's coughing and choking subsided to a low gurgle and he knew that the man, (while still in pain), was again paying attention to him.

"As I said, you probably could warn them, if you were able to actually talk. They will now mistake your inability to answer their _questions_ as continued defiance, on er,.. my part. I'm afraid you're going to suffer much in my behalf. He-He" he chuckled at the irony.

The bully would now know what it was to be bullied in return.

At length, Snape began to tremble and Wraith suspected the man was struggling to speak.

"I'm guessing you want to know why I'm doing this to you? That and you're trying to compliment me ingratiatingly for my thoughtfulness."

Snape's trembling rose to a fever pitch at that, obviously infuriated.

Wraith answered calmly. "You rapped my mind and bullied me when you should have helped and guided. Ironically enough, it is now you who shall have your mind rapped repeatedly until there is naught left but an empty husk. The why is for two obvious reason, well,.. they're obvious to me at least." he amended.

"The first is to effect my escape. Whilst your associates busy themselves with trying to break your supposed defiance I shall be left unmolested to vacate my captor's tender ministrations. I shall, of course, kill as many of them as I possibly can in the process.

The second reason that I'm doing this to you in particular is of a more personal nature.

That being...Clear your mind!" he barked and cast legillemens, battering his mind against Snape's occulomency shields.

Again and again he snarled "Clear you mind!", before slamming his probes against Snape's mind shields until eventually he broke through.

He noted that his mother's image filled the evil man's mind even now, only it wasn't in fond remembrance, but in a more lecherous, covetous nature. He could feel the man's burgeoning hatred for his father, even now. He bore witness to the part he played in Sirius' death, purposely not notifying the Order when he'd begged him to in Umbridge's office. He tore through the man's mind and memories, oblivious to the intense pain he was eliciting by doing so. He watched as Snape betrayed his parent's location to his dark master. Relishing that his hated schoolyard nemesis and his spawn would soon be killed and Lily would be his pleasure slave as per his agreement with his master.

This was the reason, the real reason that Voldemort had intended to spare her. She was intended to be a gift to reward his betrayal and for being a willing accomplice to the Potter male's murders. He watched as Snape raped and murdered in Voldemort's service, doing so not to maintain his credibility as a spy, but because he relished it.

He pulled his location,(Malfoy Manor), from the tormented man's head, along with the nearest exits and security passwords. He also learned who else was being held and what Snape had personally done to them, taking his insane pleasure from it.

He pulled back from the man's mind in utter revulsion for whom and what he was. He prayed silently that his suffering would be as unique as it was to be long before the Death Eaters and Voldemort broke him, to affect that end...

"Now,.. you shall learn the why,.. the personal reasons for which I do this and the knowledge for why I shall enjoy knowing what your _friends_ will do to you. I believe you begin to suspect, but for posterity's sake let me make it abundantly clear." That said he tore into the reeling man's mind and imparted his history to him in its entirety.

Once finished, he took a cleansing breath of closure. "Now you know the why. Was I the pampered prince you so believed I was? The "Potter brat", as you so lovingly called me? Did you enjoy the way I rapped your mind as you did to me over and again? Did it close your mind to outward influence or did it open you to it as was your true intent for me?" At length he considered the now silent man before him, unable to speak with his vocal cords ruptured.

"You're undoubtedly thinking you'll let you friends read your thoughts and learn my identity and in this you would be right, only with a twist? I'm going to let you keep my childhood memories. But first I'm going to remove your own. They're going to think, by what's contained in your mind, that you are me... and then they will treat you accordingly. But first, I'm going to rebuild your occulomency shields so that they have to er.. _work_ for the knowledge. He-He" he left off chuckling gleefully as he went about re-instituting Snape's mind shields, reinforcing them so that they were even stronger than previously as he wanted the Death Eaters to work hard for the knowledge he left in Snape's head.

Snape would suffer long before his mind was broken and after that, who knew? Undoubtedly Voldemort would treat him kindly, once he believed him to be Harry Potter.

He gave the cell the final once over to make sure all evidence of the switch was well concealed. He cast a final look toward Snape, enjoying the way the man thrashed uselessly within his chains. He knew he was struggling in desperation, terrified over what was to come.

"Farewell Greasy Git. Give my regards to my parents and Sirius when next you meet."

Snape quivered in dread at that and Wraith left the cell without a backward glance, locking the cell door behind him.

He ghosted down the hall to the cell at the far end both hoping and dreading what he'd find inside. _She _hung in chains just as he did, though he knew that she had been removed from them now and again, courtesy of what he'd gleaned from Snape's fetid mind.

The door was standing ajar an one such low life of a Death Eater was currently pawing at the female captive's curvaceous form, whilst the object of his interest hung limply in her chains, moaning in pain whilst begging uselessly for the man to desist.

This is what Cho Chang suffered in his behalf be way of a last ditch effort to keep him from being captured. She'd thrown herself at him just as Voldemort activated the port-key that brought them here.

She'd made a good fight of it. Managing to kill three Death Eaters before Voldemort himself incapacitated her.

After that, her time here had been spent much as his. Only there was the difference that as a female she could be abused in other and more personal ways.

They couldn't remove her uniform , the same as for him, but a few well placed cutting hexes had exposed her more private areas to scrutiny, after that, they'd set about trying to break her defenses.

He knew from Snape's mind that they had succeeded, just as he knew that the knowledge had done them little good as Dragon had undoubtedly changed the Unspeakable and the Hall of Mysteries security settings the moment they'd been captured to minimize potential damage.

He did not fault her for this, She did not possess the level of Occulomency that he did, and what she'd suffered made his pain seem inconsequential by comparison.

Stealthy approaching the distracted Death Eater from behind,( his feet already under a silencing charm), he grabbed the man by the back of his hood and pushed his face into the burning red coals of the brazier that was currently heating the same type of torture instruments that they'd entertained him with so frequent and ardently.

The man barely registered being grabbed before his face was pressed into the red hot coals, after that he couldn't scream if he wanted to as his mask melted right into his face, sealing his mouth and nasal passages; the intense heat cauterizing them shut.

Wraith threw the man aside with complete disdain, ignoring the man's frenzied attempts to remove the hot metal over his ruined face that was efficiently suffocating him to death.

The villain managed, in a last desperate pull, to rip the mask from him, taking what was left of his face with it. He slumped to the floor gurgling piteously on his own blood as he shuddered and at last stilled.

He turned to Cho and ,.. pulled up short as she pleaded. "No...no more...p-please... just finish it..."

He realized in horror that she mistakenly believed he was fighting over her, intent to take up where the other had left off.

Casting privacy and 'notice me not' charms over the cell he hastily pulled off his mask and held his hands up in a non-threatening gesture.

"It's me Cho,.. it's Harry. I'm going to get you out of here."

"H-Harry?" she question suspiciously through a haze of pain and despair, trying to see past his own bruised and battered features to what lie beneath.

He nodded, answering.. "You were my first kiss ever,.. beneath the mistletoe the night before Christmas holidays. We were in the room of requirement. It was the last DA meeting before break.

"H-Harry...Harry.." she sobbed, now believing him. She slumped in her chain, him mistakenly thinking in relief.

He brought his wand hand up to magically unlock her manacles, but she pulled back away from him with the last of her strength.

"No, Harry, it's too late... I'm.. they... I'm p-pregnant!" she gasped despondently, her legs giving way as she hung by her wrists.

Compassionately he pulled her against him with one hand as he unlocked her manacles with the wand in the other. They fell away with a dull clang.

She flailed and tried to pull away but he held her fast, cooing softly to her. "The child will be your child; reared with your beliefs and values. He or she will treat the world around them as you do, not by virtue of his blood or by what act however cruel that brought into the world, but by what's inside the heart of the parent who raises and cares for him or her. I envy them for who their mother is, not for what their abesentee father did."

Cho pulled back and search his blue eyes, which he pushed his own magic into until the emerald green fire within shown through, for any hint of duplicity to spar her feelings.

She found none and threw herself back into his arms and sobbed even harder, only this time it was in relief.

When she finally calmed, he reminded. "We have to get out of here. The password to bypass the anti-apparation wards is, believe it or not, "Blood Supremacy". He pulled a face at that.

Cho grabbed his hand. "Let's go then." But he held her back and instructed. "Get to Dragon. Tell him we're at Malfoy Manor. Give him the password and have him send help. There are a lot of other innocent people here that have been treated even worse than you and I. I'll cause as much of a distraction as I can while they get the noncombatants to safety." He pressed a captured wand into her hand so that she could apparate.

"No,.. I'll help you. The two of us can...?"

"The **two** of **you** can get to safety." He reminded her, his eyes lowering meaningfully to her abdomen and returning back to hers.

Cho's lip trembled, but the time for tears had past as she snuffled softly, but nodded her head in agreement. Each had their own particular responsibilities now.

She grabbed him up in a quick hug instructing, "Don't get yourself killed."

He nodded at that, adding. "I'm not the one who's gonna get killed. Are you feeling sentimental toward your child's father?'

Cho's eyes narrowed and she shook her head meaningfully before uttering the pass word and apparating away.

With a grim set to his face he put Snape's Death Eater mask back on and set about getting his captor's attention, wanting to pay them back for their compassionate care-with interest.

Snape's and a nameless dead Death Eater's wand in each of his hands, he stalked forward unlocking cells as he went to ease the liberation of those within, once Dragon's operatives arrived.

He figured he had about twenty to thirty minutes before his comrade arrived in force, plenty of time to raise wholly hell.

He pulled up at one cell where a Death Eater was molesting yet another female captive, thinking disgustedly that they all seemed to be of a one track mind in their evilness.

The poor woman was cry and bagging for him to show her the mercy of a quick death, which only seemed to incite the swine to greater acts of vileness

A quick redactor to the back of the man's neck sent his mask, and a goodly portion of his spine, careening into the far wall.

For compassion's sake he stupefied the dead man's victim, covering her modest and releasing her manacle with a quick flick from either wand. He would like to do more, but there were others that needed help and still more others that required something more vengeful.

Making it to the heavy iron fortified oak doors of his current dungeon level, he knocked twice, paused and knocked three more times in rapid succession, giving the code, he taken from Snape's ravaged mind, to the guard on the other side of the door.

The door creaked open, hinges grating against the rust and grit of years filled with misery for those barred within.

A pair of Death Eater's greeted him cordially, jokingly even, carrying no suspicion for his duplicity as they were overconfident in their own villainy. They, like most their fellows, had grown complacent from years of inflicting pain and terror on helpless victims.

No longer were their snakes in their midst but a lion, hungry for revenge.

"Ah Snape, finished already?" The guard to the right chirruped. "You didn't kill the filth before breaking him by accident, did you?"

The other chuckled darkly at that, adding.. "The dark lord will be displeased if you broke his plaything, but still,.. no great loss, he-he-he..."

"No,... no great loss." he sneered in a spot on imitation of Snape as he brought his dual wands to bear. One guard he hit with a piercing hex to his right eye that knifed through his brain, sending him gurgling unintelligibly to the concrete floor. The other he hit almost simultaneously with an asphyxiation curse, taking grim pleasure in watching the vermin claw off his mask as he tried and failed to draw breath. The blood vessels ruptured in the man's eyes before he finally lost consciousness and drooled out the last of his life as uselessly as he'd lived it.

He hastily grabbed up their two masks and shrunk them down; pocketing them in one of his liberated cloak's many pockets. He kept them for identification purposes as he vanished their dead remains and pocketed their fallen wands.

He intended to start a collection.

Some men collected bugs, butterflies, rare stamps, ancient coins or even chocolate frog cards. Simple pleasurable pursuits, much as he intended this to be.

He was like the wind of death, gusting through one corridor after another inflicting death upon those that deserved the hours of pain and torment they'd delivered upon others, but for expedience sake alone- they were sparred and given a quick, albeit still painful, demise.

He intended to destroy as many in the opposition as possible, knowing that eventually they would catch on the his deception and come after him in force, thereby drawing the enemy away from Dragon's men as they liberated those held in the dungeons below.

For all intents and purposes that plan worked to perfection, calumniating with Wraith ghosting through the manor in a running battle that inexorably was bringing the manor down around them as spells were cast with more and greater ferocity, blowing out walls and windows, rupturing water pipes and setting small areas ablaze.

No one had thought to cast the dreaded _fiendfyre_ spell, but even that was only a matter of time before someone gave into the intensity of the moment and took a desperate gambit.

An intense need for vengeance and pure unadulterated hate had taken him far, but the weeks of endless torture eventually caught up and he was on his last legs when he finally breached the object of his obsession: Voldemort's throne room.

Voldemort, himself was nowhere in evidence as he already suspected. His darkness would surely have been seeing personally to a traitor in his midst from the get go.

No, what was here was the final piece to a horrific puzzle-Nagini.

The snake had comported itself well, managing to bite him, sending its venom coursing through his body and weakening him further.

Coils roped about his midsection, intent to crush the life from his body. Jaws dislocated, gapping wide to clamp over his exposed throat, swallowing down instead on a foot of wand jammed down its gapping maw.

With the last of his waning strength he clamped his hands around the snake's throat and cast a flame cutting hex, watching in grim satisfaction as the wand within erupted searing the snake's organs and cooking it from the inside out.

The reptile thrashed and gasped for air, wreathing across the throne room's marble floor until finally a black cloud of vileness erupted from the creature's very scales and rose into the air with a mournful cry of fear and denial.

Wraith pulled away his borrowed mask and in parsel tongue he quoted the final passages of "Moby Dick" thinking it fittingly ironic, given the circumstances.

"_Towards thee I roll, thou all destroying but unconquering whale; from hell's heart I stab at thee, **for hate's sake** I spit my last breath at thee..."_

He took some distant measure of satisfaction in that what remnant of Voldemort there was left, understood for the disembodied spirit wailed all the harder at that before wafting to nothingness.

Succumbing from his many wounds, he fell unconscious to the cool marble, caring not whether he was found be friend or foe. His life was spent in but one pursuit and to that end he had made good. Voldemort's horcruxes were destroyed in their entirety. He was mortal now and could die a mortal's death. Any wand could adequately do the deed. What care he who reaped the supposed glory for it? Tom Riddle was no more than a rabid dog and was destined to be put down as such without fanfare.

Why reward a rat catcher for destroying the object of his pursuit. He is but performing a base public service.

Be glad for it and simply move on with your day.


	10. Chapter 10: Mortal once more

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N: Sorry this is so late as I was on vacation with the family.

**Chapter Ten: Mortal once more**

The monitor's steady beep was the only reassurance anyone had that the pale lifeless appearing shell that occupied the hospital bed was , in fact, still alive. The first day had been difficult, but the waiting and uncertainty for Wraith to show some semblance of waking was almost as bad as the wait had been for them when hope had waned to the point of pointlessness.

Wizards just didn't survive captivity at the hands of Voldemort's minions, at least not intact. Those rare few that were recovered usually were crippled or insane at best, dead at worst.

By all accounts Wraith could be either or all three of those things, if he did or didn't pull out of the coma he'd slipped into that first day his fellows had rescued him.

Rescue wasn't exactly the right word as most would say it was Wraith who'd done the rescuing and the rest of the Unspeakables the clean up.

They'd recovered twenty-three civilian and six Ministry personnel, including one of their own in Cho Chang a.k.a. _Night Wisp_.

Of the civilians, some eight were muggle women, well really more than teenagers if one was accurate. They had been used as playthings for male Death Eaters and as train aides for new recruits to practice curses on.

One such had been a cousin of Stalker. To say the man went into a murderous rage was an understatement, but he had no one to vent his wrath upon as Wraith had already taken care of the majority of the enemy by the time they'd liberated the captives and been able to search in earnest for Wraith, himself.

It hadn't been difficult to ascertain his whereabouts within Malfoy Manor, one only needed to follow the trail of carnage and the distant sounds of pitched battle.

Some sixteen Death Eater bodies had been recovered, three more that were severely wounded and one that had been hanging in chains who's they'd at first mistakenly thought was Wraith,(as he was clothed in Wraith's tattered uniform), that had turned out to in actuality be Severus Snape.

After a few hasty healing charms and a bit of _questioning _by less than amused Unspeakables, they'd learned, with no little appreciation, Wraith's intended plan for the man and decided to let well enough alone and let the man's own people tend his needs.

That is to say, they left him as they found him, well almost. He was a bit _more_ worse for wear than previously when they left.

During their search for their missing comrade, the manor had gone ominously silent before they could reach the object of their goal and tension had been running an all time high.

When they had at least found him, they'd thought him already dead covered in blood and wounds the way he was.

Dragon, despite his concern, had noted that although Voldemort was not in residence, his familiar had been and Wraith had eliminated the last horcrux, leaving the man mortal again.

The hunt for the Dark Lord was about to begin, all they needed now was the hunter.

* * *

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP...

"You should go home and get some sleep. You're not doing him or yourself any favors if you're too exhausted to help when needed." Dragon reminded, clamping a supportive hand on his younger subordinate's shoulder.

"L-Look what they d-did to him." Chameleon choked out, barely holding back a sob. He, like many of his fellows had kept vigilant, often tearful, watch over Wraith while he slept, hoping and praying for another miracle.

"You've seen it before, Cam. We all have." Dragon reminded with a grimace as he felt the hollowness of the words in the pit of his stomach from the moment he'd uttered them.

"But what kind of animals c-could...ahh...?" this time the sobs broke off further comment as his hand tremulously swept out over Wraith, indicating the ghastly wounds and multitude of torment inflicted on his battered and barely recognizable form.

He was a hideous testament to man's will to endure long after the body no longer could.

* * *

**Previously...**

Frankly, even the healers were mystified that he was still alive. His magical _cores_, if one could call it that, were depleted to the point of death. He was covered in spell burns and abrasions in various states of healing and not. That was just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. There were internal injuries and a variety of fractures including: skull, right shoulder, left orbit, nasal-broken multiple times being poorly reset and then re-broken again, left femur and several knuckles of each hand. Then there was the bruised heart, further complicated by scarred lung tissue that was caused by several poor attempts at healing after _asphyxiation curses_.

Several bones needed to be re-broken and set properly as those that had been fixed were poorly done and misaligned.

It was obvious that everything that had been done to him as a means of healing was done methodically to prolong his torment and misery.

The healers theorized that his pain threshold must be unimaginable as any one of a dozen injuries was wholly disabling of itself, let alone in addition to so many others. To have suffered so much and still rescued so many and taken the fight to one's enemies- unthinkable!

One healer had put it simply that he should be dead ten times over at the least.

It was at that conjecture that Griffon and Raven had left the room in a rage and Dozer, for all his bluster, had broken down in tears of heartache for all that his friend had suffered in their behalf.

Madam Bones had summed up the situation with profession succinctness, in that she'd order Dragon to..

"_Hunt Voldemort to the ends of the earth! Kill him slowly, painfully; make him long for the death that so terrifies him. I want to hear him beg to die before he's put down like the craven, cowardly dog that he is."_

Dragon and company nodded stoically in grim determination by way of answer.

They'd barely arrived with Wraith's broken body to St. Mungo's trauma ward before Minister Bones and her Niece, Susan, bolted into the area.

Susan had to be forcibly held back from entering the surgery suite's observation level. She'd been a veritable hellcat; spitting and hissing, clawing desperately to get past the guards holding her at bay.

The horrified gasp of alarm that her aunt had unintentionally let slip at seeing Wraith's ruined form had chilled her blood to ice within her veins. Her aunt was a seasoned auror long before becoming Minister of Magic. For her to react in such a way was telling in the extreme and Susan found herself shuddering in dread. Tears fell as she finally stopped her struggling and let the full weight of weeks of anguish and anxiety consume her, blessedly fainting from her intense anguish.

Somewhere along the lines she had come to realize just how much she cared for a man that she knew and yet didn't?

Unfortunately, as with most things, she hadn't realized this until after he was gone from her life.

The old analogy that; 'you don't know how much you'll miss something until it's gone' was never more true for her.

Since that time she had been a daily visitor, keeping faithful vigil at Wraith's bedside.

* * *

**Present...**

Chameleon was struggling to rein in his motions once Dragon reminded him that it was rapidly approaching the noon hour.

At noon **she** would undoubtedly arrive as she had done every day since he was recovered.

Like clockwork the first chime of noon had barely sounded and a soft knock sounded at his hospital room door.

The door cracked open tentatively and strawberry blonde locks with soft blue eyes beneath peeked around the edge of the parted door.

"Please come in Ms. Bones" Dragon invited, casting a last wary gaze toward his subordinate in reminded to control himself.

They would maintain a strong and brave front of certainty that all would be set to right and their brother would survive and resume his duties.

They did this not for the public's sake, but for the girl's. The public was unaware of his survival,(in more ways than one), but it was the girl who needed their support. There was a connection between the two, whether they knew it or not. On some level they did as Susan had not been herself during his captivity, but since his recovery she had come alive as never before.

As to him... there had been but one name he'd gasped in a moment of pain filled disorientation- **hers**.

Strange, considering what lie between them or in spite of it. They'd never really shared any kind of a connection other than perhaps one of mentor and student or even friendly acquaintances at best. Certainly not one of closeness, let alone romantic feelings, but on some level, perhaps wholly unknown to the two of them; they had managed to touch each other, profoundly so.

Gone was the uncertain girl and in her place a woman. She was now a kind and capable witch that showed not the slightest hint of balking at his many raw scars and horrific wounds as even the most seasoned warrior and healers among them had.

She would oft gentle a hand across his bruised and swollen face kindly, reverently. No hesitation was evident in her touch. Only compassion and something more, ..something as yet unidentified ghosted through her eyes.

Her eyes that waited patiently for his to return the gaze.

In anticipation of this she always dressed and wore her hair in a simple, but well styled look of carelessness that betrayed none of the effort she put into maintaining that illusion. She hid her own anxieties well behind a mask of positive conviction.

She would hold his hand when the nurses changed his many bandages, softly whispering reassurance that he was healing and doing well. Whether or not anyone else believed that didn't matter for she did.

The Unspeakable would accept no other alternative, but it was Susan that _believed _he would recover.

Susan poked her head into the room. "Am I intruding?"

"O-Of course not, please come in, Ms. Bones" Chameleon recovered enough to invite her in without betraying the despair he'd been feeling of moments before.

"What's it to be today?" Dragon asked, nodding toward the book she carried with her.

She read to him each day. One of them had betrayed his penchant for literary classics, thus Susan brought in a new book to read him, after completing the previous one. She found it was something they had in common as she enjoyed them immensely.

"Treasure Island", Susan answered, grasping Wraith's unconscious form by the arm reassuringly,( by one of the few spots not injured), to announce her arrival to him.

Dragon nodded his head appreciatively at her choice.

"You're welcome to stay?" she offered as the two made to leave and give them some privacy.

"This is your time." Chameleon acknowledged. "Besides,.. I've a suspicion he'd rather it was your face he'd see the first time he opens his eyes."

Susan blushed prettily at that, shushing the two of them from the room and settling into read.

She spent each lunch break here, (having found temporary employ as a charms professor for a secondary school right here in London), and most of her evenings. She enjoyed the calmness of the room almost as much as the reassuring sound of his breathing. The healers had indicated that coma patients could often hear people talking to them and she wanted him to hear her. She wanted that very much.

She didn't know exactly why she felt that way, she just did. Everything about him was still a mystery to her, but in spite of that there was something about him that she was drawn to and it wasn't just curiosity. Though, what woman wasn't intrigued by a mystery?

Briefly, she let her mind wander as she read.

She had been certain that she was onto something when a light bulb had gone off in her head and she'd wandered if Harry Potter could have survived? Along those lines she'd made a leap of faith thinking that he was- Harry Potter. Her aunt had dashed those fevered hopes, however.

She had confirmed that Harry had died and that his body was destroyed and that his ashes were scattered in secret.

The thing that bothered her though, well not the only thing, but one of the things that bothered her most was that her aunt had confided that Wraith had _died_ before. She'd also hinted that his codename was just that- _a code_.

_What did it all mean?_

The answers would and could wait for now. All that mattered now was that he wake up. Once that happened they could work on his recovery, after that... well..?

Then it would be time for them to talk. By that she meant that it was time for the two of them to find out just what there was between them if anything.

Susan opened the book and began reading aloud to him. The hour passed and she calmly marked her page and left with a last fond grasp of his forearm. Her eyes drifted over his many injuries, at least those that were in plain view; she didn't even want to think about those beneath his many bandages. It didn't matter on the whole, he was alive and that was all that mattered and she told him so. That and she promised to return that evening and they could pick up the story again.

He never stirred either at the sound of her voice or the touch of her hand, but some part of her knew that he could hear and sense her presence.

That was all that mattered, for now.

It was just past eleven the next morning when blurry, mattered blue eyes cracked open. The first thing his confused mind registered was that his arms were at his sides instead of locked over his head- the chains were gone.

The second thing he noticed was that he had to pee in the worst way imaginable. Stiff arms pulled the covers aside with a grunt of effort. Feet hit the cool tile floor and the first tentative step sent him crashing to the floor, pulling away his monitor lead and making it- flat line.

Warning claxons went off and a medical team poured into the room like it was on fire, pulling up abruptly at the empty bed that greeted them.

"What the..?" one nurse gasped out.

"Where in the hell...?" the guard began before a trembling hand stole into view and grabbed at one of the bed's side rails.

The whole bed vibrated with the strain as its occupant tried to pull itself back up from the floor with pain filled slowness and grunts of protests.

Dozer's legs propelled him excitedly forward as he grabbed up his fallen friend and hefted his complaining form back up onto the bed.

"No, mate, I need the loo. I'm gonna piss myself for Merlin's sake!" his voice croaked from disuse.

One nurse hastily cast a charm that relieved his bladder as another reapplied his monitor.

"Thank Christ." he sighed in relief, settling back into his pillow as more and more people poured excitedly into the room.

People were gapping open mouth as if he were a ghost, whilst Dozer tenderly pulled his covers up and patted at his shoulder snuffling softly, earning himself a curious look from the object of his tender ministrations.

"What?" he asked uneasily of the room as a whole.

"W-We thought.. we thought you were g-gonna..." Dozer tried and failed to answer, before giving it up and wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his uniform's tunic.

"Oh go on?" he shushed his friend in exasperation, earning chuckles of relief from the room.

All out laughter ensued when he ventured... "Why is it I can't get pirates out of my head for some reason?"

The reason for his query shot through the gapping door of his room, (just as the healers were finishing their exam), fearing the worst had happened from the way the room was filled with so many gapping staff.

She had a large book held tightly to her chest as if to shield herself or hide away from some hurt.

She wore a light blue sundress that captured the blue of her eyes to perfection. Her hair was shorter than he remembered but held a soft curl to it and bounced when she moved, alluringly so.

The summer sun had lightened her strawberry tresses to honey blonde in streaks that seemed to highlight the red even more like a sunrise. She had spent long hours at the pool when she wasn't hear and had a healthy tan to show for it, that and a dark sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks that he found oddly pleasing, along with the lithe, well toned figure from the swimming itself.

She glowed and despite himself and his bruised and swollen face showed he appreciated the view. He paid for that with a wince as his many healing injuries protested the half smile he tried to offer.

Susan's surprise and excitement melted into a blush of happiness at the way his own blue eyes drank in her appearance.

"Bout time you got here, I want to know what happens next?"

"Huh?" Susan mumbled, not understanding. She was still staring along with the rest. Rivented in disbelief that he was actually awake and talking.

"The story,.." he reminded. "What happened next with the pirates?" he clarified.

The smile that lit Susan's face brightened the room more than any sunny day could as she squealed delightedly and grabbed him up in a hug, pushing his retreating healers aside as she came. The rest of the room hastily filed out, with Dozer's insistence as he bodily guided some of his protesting healers from the room and shut the door behind, first casting Wraith a meaningful look as he shifted his eyes toward Susan.

"Umphh!" he groaned from the pressure to his still healing ribs.

Susan pulled worriedly back."I'm sorry, did I hurt..?"

"It's fine,.." he cut her off, meaning it. "I'm fine. In fact I'm better than fine now that you're here. I..I've missed you." he confessed, sheepishly.

Susan next smile made the previous one pale by comparison."I've missed you too." She returned, brushing her hand affectionately down his good arm.

He noticed the way she was trying to avoid his bandages, goggling at just how many there were once he fully began to take stock of himself.

"I must look a right mess?" he half apologized, pulling his sheets up farther over his exposed chest.

"You look fine." sadmonished to which he snorted incredulously.

"It's nothing the healers can't fix once you've mended inside." she added reassuringly, her hand surreptitiously giving his arm a supportive, albeit affectionate squeeze.

"Looks that good, eh?" he grimaced, having read between the lines of her supportive, yet somewhat evasive reply.

"You're alive, the rest will sort itself out in due time." she continued unabated.

"You sound like me now."

Susan smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment."

A pregnant pause followed as each struggled to know where to take their conversation, knowing what they wanted to talk about, but not knowing where to begin.

Wraith hastily leaped in first, rather clumsily with... "I'm not Draco Malfoy."

Susan's eyes softened dramatically as she agreed. "I know you're not."

"I..." he paused not knowing exactly what he wanted to say, so he erred on the side of honesty, albeit a vague , G-rated version to spare her feelings. "I...had some time to think about things, during.. well..you know... and I... that is.. would you... could we...?"

"I'd love to." Susan interrupted, sparing him the effort. Normally she would have chided herself over making it too easy for a wizard, but under the circumstances, how could she be anything, but accommodating.

"I-It was terrible, the waiting.." she clarified, smiling despite the moistness within her eyes.

Wraiths eyes lowered to his sheets.

"Do you want to .. talk... about it?" she struggled to ask, thinking he might need to get some of what he'd suffered off his mind.

"No..I...it's not something anyone would ever want to hear about, Sue. I mean,.. well,.. look?"

He spread out his arms as wide as he could, before his ribs protested the effort, giving her a clear view of the trauma inflicted upon him by evil men for no more than amusement's sake, more often than not. They wanted information, yes, but really they wanted to just hurt him more than anything else. He killed many of them for what they did, both to him and to others.

He wished he could have killed them all. In time he intended to do just that.

Susan's hands gentled his arms back to his sides and tenderly ran her hand down the side of his cheek, mindful of the still raw and swollen flesh. "I've seen it and I couldn't be more proud of you."

His face contorted in a puzzled expression at that and she clarified for him that..

"To have suffered so much and still your first moments were not spent trying to escape, but to help others who'd been captured and tormented. Because of you a lot of other people are healing and with families who'd all but given up hope. Auntie told me what you did, how many you saved. The Ministry is solidly behind you and the rest of the Unspeakables. They're that proud of you. It's all anyone can talk about. All the paper's are calling you a hero. "

He began to shake his head in disagreement, but she gently grabbed his chin and drove home her point.

"People are filled with hope. They actually see an end to the war in sight. You've given them someone and something to rally behind. They're appalled by what was done to you, what you suffered. But still you fought back and saved so many others at the expense of your own freedom, your own life. If one man can do what you did than what can all of us do together?"

"Being a survivor hardly makes me a hero, Sue. I was beyond pissed, beyond rage. When I broke loose all I wanted was to kill and kill and kill until there was no one left for me to revenge myself upon. Freeing others along the way was just a bonus; it wasn't something I set out to do. That doesn't make me a hero. I'm not sure what it makes me, but not a hero." he disagreed coolly. His eyes were distant and filled with pain as he relived some of what had been done to him and what he'd done in return.

Susan sighed in disappointment as she gently smoothed herself a spot on his covers and planted herself on the bed next to him.

"Heroes are not comic book icons. They're every day wizards and muggles who do what they have to do to save themself and usually they end up saving many others in the process. Sometimes, if you're lucky enough, one crosses your path and your that much the better for it the rest of your life. One..."at this Susan's eyes took on a distant, haunted look and she absently grasped his bandaged hand, more to reassure herself than him.

"One such hero crossed my path a long time ago, only I was too immature and naive to know it at the time. Myself, like so many others took him for granted. We never fully understood him, we never tried to. All he ever wanted was to be accepted. To not be stared at and talked about, just to be one of the many, not one of the few. We didn't even allow him that much. He deserved so much more. He deserved our utmost respect and consideration, but we were blind. I..was..blind. I told myself that I would never be blind again,.. but.. I have been." At this Susan turned her tear filled eyes toward the bed's occupant, pleading with him to believe her when she said.

"I.. didn't realize who and what Harry Potter was until it was too late, much too late. It was my fault more than anyone's.. what happened. All I could think of was myself and my own hurt over the friend I'd lost. I never stopped to think about Harry's hurt, or what he'd lost. I said something cold and spiteful. I... I didn't... I.. wish...Oh, God he.. he jumped! We didn't know.. we didn't have the slightest clue what he went through.. what he'd fought and suffered in behalf of so many others without a thought for himself. McGonagal knew. She knew better than anyone and she made us understand. She made us see how callous and thoughtless we were, but...too late."

Wraith sat frozen to the spot his own eyes fixed on hers as the pain of his once life came through in Susan's words. He was finally seeing things from someone else's vantage point, and it was a bitter, regretful thing that was almost as hard on her to relive as it had once been for himself to live through, only.. she and most likely others were still paying for it to this day and would continue to do so the rest of their lives. He knew in that moment that he couldn't maintain the lie he was living indefinitely. She and others deserved to be freed from their past regrets.

But there was still Voldemort.

Susan's voice drifted back into his thoughts as she continued to try and explain and unburden herself. She needed him to understand where she had once been and what it meant for now and the future.

"Harry Potter was a hero in the truest sense of the word, but he was so much more than that in so many ways. He was kind and decent. He was a good friend and a good instructor. So many of us are undoubtedly alive today because of the defense lessons he gave us. He could have been,.. we could have been something more if I had had the courage then to follow my heart, but like I said: I was immature and naïve. It wasn't until that fateful moment when I realized that he felt the same way about me that I had been secretly feeling for him. I saw it in his eyes just before he jumped. I saw the sadness and betrayal in his beautiful green eyes. He cared about me.. truly cared, and I was too stupid to realize it. I told myself that I would never be that blind again. That no matter what I'd find the courage to follow my heart,.. but .. I didn't?" her teary eyes found his meaningfully at that.

He gulped nervously and decided it was time to end the charade and follow his own heart for once.

"S-Susan.. I.. I'm Ha.."

The room to his door burst open and many chortling voices bellowed out merrily:"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you...Happy Birthday dear Wraithy-poo.." his eyebrow arched incredulously at that.

"Happy Birthday to you!_TWEEEEE!" Dozer finished the birthday song and blew a party favor in his face for good measure, earning an irritated swipe for his trouble. The rest of Griffon Team cheered and jeered good naturedly at their antics.

A somewhat embarrassed Susan began to apologize. "I'm sorry..., I didn't know it was your birthday?"

"It's not." Griffon shrugged putting her at ease. His face turned a shade darker as he added. "He was, er,.. indisposed during his birthday."

Susan's mouth formed a silent "O" of understanding at that.

"When was his birthday, then?" Susan asked curiously and the room went suddenly quiet.

Several eyes turned toward Wraith, expectantly, but he just pulled a face and responded absently that it was a couple of weeks ago and left it at that, though his fellows still looked uncomfortable with the original question and yet, disappointed by his answer.

It was a reaction that Susan caught and filed away to think more about later.

"Did you make me a cake?" Wraith asked hopefully, deflecting everyone's attention from previous.

"Sure did." Raven grinningly answered. "But the healers said "no solid foods for a couple more days and well,.. we didn't want it to go to waste and..." he continued sheepishly, but was cut off with an accusing. "You ate it?" from Wraith .

Dozer nodded happily. "It was chocolate."

"Triple layered" Stalker added, smiling at the memory.

"The frosting was so creamy it melted in your mouth." Chameleon piped in smacking his lips appreciatively.

"With French Vanilla ice cream on the side." Griffon rubbed his stomach happily.

"Of all the dirty..."Wraith began to complain before Susan cut him off. "Language! Don't let them get to you. I'll make you a cake all to yourself once the doctors give the okay." She promised.

"You bake?" Dozer looked immediately interested, eyeing the girl with growing appreciation.

"Any good?" Chameleon prompted further.

"Uh, yeah,.. I'm pretty good, I guess?" she answered modestly.

"Cooks and Looks." Raven added showing immediate interest from his quarter, making Susan a tad uneasy as all the men in the room were taking a somewhat sudden and predatory interest in her.

"Hey, back off you lot." Wraith complained, earning himself immediate scrutiny.

"She spoken for?" Raven asked worriedly.

"Um,.. that is..?" Wraith backpedaled, whilst Susan blushed prettily at his discomfort.

"Since when does that matter to you?" Chameleon asked Raven incredulously, referring to his prowess with the ladies, historically speaking.

"It doesn't, but hey? The kid's hurting and he wasn't really much to look at before." he shrugged helplessly.

"Hey, I'm sitting right here, ya know?" Wraith complained.

Dozer gave him a supportive nudge on the shoulder. "Don't blow it. You've got that whole tragic hero thing going."

"Chicks dig scars." Stalker added supportively.

To which Susan huffed and rolled her eyes. "He doesn't look that bad and besides, the hearers said they could fix him up good as knew."

"Better off leaving him like he is if that's the only alternative." Griffon snickered.

"Hey?!" Wraith barked in outrage, but even Susan chuckled at that.

"All right, all right." Dragon scolded as he entered the room with Minister Bones at his side. "Behave children or no cake." he warned them like they were a bunch adolescents.

"I never got any in the first place." Wraith grumped to which the others snorted at his expense.

Minister Bones cleared her throat pointedly to which the room immediately quieted in expectation, except for Wraith who glanced amongst his fellows questioningly, getting only winks and half grins in return.

"On the Thirtyith of September the Ministry of Magic will be hosting an awards Ball, to honor our newest and youngest designated Order of Merlin-First Class recipient." At this announcement, she swept her hand in Wraith's direction, indicating him to which the room erupted in cheers and applause.

Wraith sat stonily as the others cheered around him, himself stunned to speechlessness at the announcement. Susan swept forward and rubbed his arm gently in support as she nodded her head excitedly in agreement with the Ministry's decision.

Once the room began to quiet, the others noticed his unease to which Griffon tried to lighten the mood with.. "Don't worry kid; I'm sure there'll be cake?"

"Maybe we'll even save you a piece or two." Raven suggested with bright eyes, filled with happiness for his friend.

"Not two?" Dozer gasped in alarm and the room erupted in laughter.

Minister Bones ghosted forward and whispered conspiratorially while the others were preoccupied. "The only question is.. what name shall we put on the cake?"

She'd purposely said that just loud enough for Susan to catch from the other side of his bed. Susan cocked her head, sending her aunt a quizzical look which she only winked facetiously in answer to before sweeping from the room to attend to other duties.

He'd only been out of St. Mungo's a few days and was already chaffing at the restrictions upon his activities. Both that and his ordered placement to convalesce. Minister Bones, well Susan really, but Minister Bones had insisted that he would recover at the Bones estate under a private Healer and, of course, her niece's watchful eyes.

He couldn't argue that it was the safest place for him to do so as he was the one who'd set up the estate's current warding system.

Nor could he fault the many amenities the estate provides in a heated pool, whirlpool, dueling chamberand training rooms with the most up to date exercise equipment.

Nor could he argue against how pretty and attentive his personal aide was during his recuperation.

No.. what grated on his nerves was the fact that his fellows were already fully invested in the hunt for Voldemort whist he was stuck here on the sidelines- out of the game.

He needed to heal and he needed to heal now. The only trouble was is that it wasn't only his body but his mind that needed healing. The minister's first poignant words from the hospital had driven home his already half hearted decision to come out- so to speak. The only problem was- should he? He needed to, he ought to, but should he? Before, his continued existence was kept secret to keep him alive, safe from Voldemort's unending vendetta against everything: Harry Potter related.

He'd grown used to his anonymity. He snorted at that concept. Was it anonymity so much as just outright fear? He wasn't just code named "Wraith", he was a wraith. He was nothing more than a disembodied spirit intent on vengeance. That done, Voldemort dead, then what was he?

Not a _wraith_ for there was no one to seek vengeance upon once Voldemort was gone. He'd found a home and an adopted family among the Unspeakables, but was it enough? It was a lot more than some people had and he knew he should be grateful for that much, but still...?

Was it wrong to want more? Was it just human nature to always want more? It seemed so as so many never seemed satisfied no matter how much they had, no matter how hard they worked and achieved.

In retrospect, he decided that he was just plain scared to mess up the status quo. He was afraid of the pain and rejection he'd see in his once friend's eyes should they learn he'd survived. As strong and as healthy emotionally as he'd become, was he strong enough to face that again? Would their undoubted rejection send him over the edge?

What if he remained a secret? What if Harry Potter remained dead? How then could he even consider exploring the possibility of finding out there was something between them, something more than friendship?

Was he just hanging onto a school boy's crush that was never meant to be in the first place?

Wraith skipped another stone across the pond that he'd been gamely trying to walk around, though his injuries had slowed his progress. At least he told himself it was his injuries and not his own traitorous self conscious that was interfering and distracting him from this morning's goal. The stone skipped several times and plopped down sending ripples outward that lapped all the way back to his feet; the original point of origin. It seemed to absolve his doubts and affirm his convictions that his previous plan was the way to go.

It had hit him back in the hospital. It hit him like the bolt of lightning he'd once been forced to see every time he looked in the mirror.

He wouldn't have to hunt Voldemort.

Voldemort would come to him! If Voldemort knew that Harry Potter was still alive he'd waste no time in seeking him out to try and finish the job once and for all.

He knew what he had to do and how he could best see it done.

Unbeknownst to him; two sets of eyes had tracked his progress and each pondered his current distracted state for different reasons.

Both were correct in their assumption, one slightly more so than the other.

Susan suspected he was distracted by his preoccupation with joining the hunt for the hiding Dark Lord. She also assumed his injuries were slowing him down more than he wanted to admit.

Amelia Bones sat next to her niece at the breakfast table; herself watching Susan as much as she was Wraith's current emotional state. Susan was worried for him, though she had no real idea of just how and what she should be worried over. The obvious was his injuries, both emotional and physical. The lesser reason was his obvious frustration in not being able to join his comrades in their search. The completely obscured and more important reason that Susan should be concerned about was what held Amelia Bones' attention this morning. She knew or at least thought she knew what had him so preoccupied.

He was struggling to be what he was born and reborn to be: Harry Potter.

He was afraid.

A funny thing that. No one, even the Dark Lord included, would ever use the word fear in the same sentence with Harry Potter's name.

Those in the know- knew how wrong the assumption was that Harry Potter didn't know what fear was.

Almost no one knew it better.

He knew what it was to be alone amongst your enemy with nothing but pain and endless torment awaiting your every waking moment.

He knew what it was to lose your friends and family. The terror that each new day would find you that much more alone and bereft of any support, let alone so much as a kind face to brighten the deepest corner of your broken heart.

He knew what it was to have the fate of an entire world resting on your shoulders.

Despite your most valiant efforts to win, he knew what it was to lose and in so doing lose more than you could ever imagine, let alone bear the loss of.

He knew that if he revealed himself to the world, he could very well have that world turn against him once more.

He knew that if he didn't reveal himself, and soon, he could very well lose everything.

He also knew that if he did reveal himself, the same thing could and probably would occur, at least where he was concerned.

Would he see hurt and betrayal rather than joy in his friend's eyes? Would that betrayal turn to contempt and loathing?

Susan would undoubtedly despise him, thinking he'd played her for a fool.

Hermione, Ron, Neville and Ginny, would think him a coward, having abandoned them to Voldemort. He wouldn't even have the luxury of remaining incognito within the Dept. of Mysteries as he and his fellows would be besieged by reporters who would be pandering to the public's curiosity to know how he'd survived a certain death.

He hadn't.

Yes,.. Harry Potter knew what it was to fear. He knew well the numbing, paralytic fear of self doubt.

Amelia knew that he could take his family fortune and squirrel himself away to live out his years and anonymity, but the fear and guilt would haunt him to the end of his days. His life would be one unending, torturous day after another of gut wrenching loneliness.

_Could Susan or any of his former friends have any idea what it was to be Harry Potter?_

Amelia Bones doubted it. Just as she doubted that if anyone could imagine the scope of his existence, Given that; envy would certainly not be something they thought of when they thought of his life.

Nor would they even for a moment consider that he had betrayed them. He had not hidden himself away in fear, but had taken his fight to the enemy with renewed vigor.

_Yes, Harry Potter knew what it was to fear, but none knew better what it was to persevere._

_Harry Potter was indeed the epitome of courage, for despite his horrific fear he still did what was right no matter how dearly it so often cost him in the end. _

_Luna Lovegood had been both devious and wise beyond her years in that she had revealed the truth of his existence and gave the world hope at the same time, all in one obscure last message to her friends:_

'_**Death shall have no dominion over the stout hearted'.**_

_She had renewed their faith without their even knowing it._

Amelia considered all this as she watched him agonize over a decision that he had already made. He would see an end to the deception in more way than one.

Susan watched the object of her ..._what,.. Affection?_

She respected him, of that she was certain. She was fond of him and relied upon his calm, almost self assured demeanor.

He was agonizing over something and whatever it was the unspoken message that she had gotten was that it was not a topic he would discuss with her in any way shape or form.

She wished he would. She wished he would confide in her if for no other reason than to assure herself that he trusted her and valued her opinion.

Sometimes when he looked at her in an unguarded moment, when he thought she was oblivious to his overtures, there was such a profound depth of longing in his eyes that was as breathtaking as it was heart breaking.

She wondered what she had done or didn't do to have earned such a look from him. She wished she knew how to help him, but how did you help someone when you didn't, couldn't know what was wrong?

Breakfast had finished and still Amelia and Susan had kept silent vigil waiting and watching as Wraith made his way back toward them.

He entered the kitchen door and sat at their table without a word, helping himself to the cooling coffee that he heated to near boiling with less than a twitch of his hand, startling Susan by the ease he used wandless magic, as if it was no more than a reflex action.

She turned to her aunt, who if anything, seemed to accept his actions as if common place.

She had this strange all knowing look about her as if what he was about to say something she had been expecting all along.

Wraith inhaled the aroma of his coffee with relish, himself appreciating the simple pleasures of everyday life more so than most ever thought to.

He took a sip and with a sigh of both pleasure and resignation, he set his cup down and held Amelia Bones' gaze with a look of steadfast certainty.

"Make the announcement two days before the ceremony."

Amelia's smiled knowingly and nodded her acceptance of his decision. It was his original idea and both she and Dragon thought it a stroke of genius, but still his trepidation was understandable. She and his fellow Unspeakables had argued both for and against, but ultimately it was his decision to make.

Susan shifted her gaze between the two, struggling to comprehend what they were planning. "What announcement?" she blurted out curiously.

Wraith shifted his gaze momentarily toward Susan and back toward her aunt, shaking his head slightly to Amelia's hopeful expression. She wanted him reveal himself now, but he wasn't ready. He couldn't risk the emotional fallout that would surely be an overwhelming distraction before the inevitable final conflict with Voldemort came to fruition.

Susan's face fell when she realized that neither was going to clue her in to their discrete conversation.

"Are you sure this is how you want to proceed?" Amelia asked uncertainly.

Wraith nodded without pause, adding.. "I need to stay focused now more than ever before. Things will become,.. _complicated_ enough those last two days and if I'm not ready by then I never will be. Frankly, I'm leaning more toward the latter in that I'll never be ready for something of this magnitude and the spotlight it's going to put me in."

Susan caught on at that, or at least thought she had, but she couldn't be more wrong. "You deserve this. You've suffered and strived to do what's right and ultimately saved a lot of lives, yourself included. It's not a bad thing to be recognized for who and what you are."

She couldn't guess how nearly she'd inadvertently come to hitting the mark in that last statement.

Wraith smirked half heartedly at the irony of her last comment. "I hope that's true, Susan. I really hope that's true."

Amelia's concerned eyes caught his and she chided supportively. "It'll be fine. You'll be fine. Things will work out, you'll see."

Susan reached out and grasped his hand without pause, surprising him as she added her own sentiments. "It's only right that people know you for the courageous person that you are."

His face fell at that and he pulled his hand away, forcing back a sob as he quickly turned away. "I'm the biggest coward there is, but I'm just plain sick of being afraid." With that he abruptly left the kitchen without a backward glance, shocking Susan.

Susan's hesitantly began to rise and go after him, but her aunt's restraining hand on her wrist held her back.

"Let him go, dear." She advised.

Susan gapped at her aunt, her eyes swiveling toward the way Wraith had left and her aunt's clam resolve.

"How can he think that about himself? Nobody could think something like that after all he's done, right? You and the ministry wouldn't even consider giving out the 'Order of Merlin' if it wasn't something he deserved?" she argued in disbelief, still completely stunned by his proclamation.

Amelia Bones smiled softly in reassurance as she assured her niece that, "I think he's the bravest soul that's ever lived. Remember that when the time comes and do not judge him harshly for something that was beyond his control. He would never hurt you intentionally, Susan." she confided, again without Susan catching the truth within her words, knowing that one day soon Susan would understand all too well.

Susan slumped back into her chair completely baffled by her aunt's somewhat cryptic suggestions.

"Wh.. What are you talking about?,...I could never... what announcement was he talking about, aunt Amy? What's going on...what's going to happen?" she asked worriedly.

Aunt Amelia smiled warmly at that as she patted her niece's hand before leaving for work...

"Something incredible, I should think." she answered before she disappeared in the floo, leaving Susan gapping in curious wonder.

* * *

Susan returned home late one day, many weeks later, as the afternoon sun was setting it was only a few days before the supposed announcement was to be released and although her aunt was nearly giddy with anticipation; Susan's anxiety had reached nearly a fever pitch.

Wraith, on the other hand was the picture of calm. Oh, he worked out tirelessly from sunup to sundown. Strengthening his body through a strict regimen of healthy diet, rigorous exercise and enough nutrient potions to drown a full grown minotaur. All this under the watchful eyes of one of the most ardent and unpleasant wizards she had ever met; Quinlan Baines.

That man and his bloody stick that he lovingly referred to as a 'teaching aid'. The man was nothing short of cruel and she had told him so to which he bowed appreciatively as if she had just paid him the compliment of his life.

Why Wraith had allowed the bully to whip and beat him without so much as a word of complaint was beyond her wildest imaginings.

Then there was the subject of his magical training. Each day Susan had found him sweat drenched from his many labors. Today was no different than the last many. What was different today as it had been everyday thus far, was the sheer magnitude to which he took his conjuration.

Susan entered the kitchen to find her aunt enjoying a cool glass of lemonade whilst watching the current spectacle.

Wraith was outside, as usual, as the mansion's dueling chamber could never hope to contain such immense displays of magic.

Her aunt never bothered to wait for her to ask, she only tipped the top of her glass in the direction of the pond outside to which Susan rolled her eyes and huffed indignantly as she stomped up to the window to have a look for herself.

"Merlin abov!" Susan gasped in shock.

The pond, the **entire **pond was swirling ominously above their estate in a giant waterspout, the very tip of which was whirling within the palm of Wraith as he directed the rest of the swirling mess to and fro by no more than a flick of his free hand.

He looked like some absurd juggler balancing a spinning plate as he shifted back and forth, trying to hold the waterspout aloft.

Now their pond was by no means a lake, but it wasn't a mere puddle either. What he was doing shouldn't even be possible as the weight alone of so many tons of water was beyond the strength of even the most powerful of mages.

To actually be holding it aloft with one hand, under some advance levitation charm was one thing, but to then be actually directing the direction with the other hand?

Before she could even think to gasp out her awe at such a display, he took it a step farther. Wraith spun his free hand counter clockwise, and before her very eyes; the water slowed to a stop and then impossibly began to flow the opposite direction.

"NO-WAY?!" Susan barked in disbelief. "It's a trick, an illusion. There's no way on earth...?" Susan scoffed in outrage, throwing open the kitchen door and proceeding to stomp across the lawn.

No one could pull off something like that and she was going to prove it.

When she was close enough to interrupt the show, she threw out challengingly..."Who do you think you're fooling with that cheap illusion you faker?"

"Susan ,.. wha..?"startled, Wraith turned away to address the distraction and...

**WHOOSH-FOOM!**

"ARGGGG!" Susan screamed that last.

Thousands of gallons of cold pond water came crashing down over their heads, sending the two sprawling out into the refilling pond.

"Ack-Gaa!" Susan choked on pond water, eyeing a toad as it came reeling past on a lily pad that it clung to for dear life as if being washed out to sea.

"Oh my!" Amelia Bones gasped before breaking down into tear wracking guffaws at the spectacle as Wraith shrugged his soggy shoulders helplessly and apologized, serving only to infuriate the girl more as she slapped water in his direction and huffed angrily under her breath.

* * *

**September 28**

_**THE DAILY PROPHET**_

**HARRY POTTER LIVES!**

**Alive and working undercover for the Unspeakable's these past many years is the nation's once celebrated 'boy who lived'. Minister Bones announced today that the **_**Unspeakable**_** designated to receive our nation's highest honor- The Order of Merlin is none other than our own, Harry Potter.**

**It seems our shocked readers that Harry Potter's once believed death by suicide was no more than a clever ruse to allow him time to train with and eventually hunt Voldemort along with his fellow Unspeakables.**

**The agent known as: Wraith, is in fact, the until now, believed deceased- Harold James Potter.**

**As most readers will recall, Harry Potter was believed to have died after jumping from the Astronomy Tower of Hogwarts...**

The tear stained news paper fell from Susan's hands as she buried her face in her hands and wept bitterly for more reasons than she could begin to count.

She was not the only person to do so throughout England.


	11. Chapter 11: The Reckoning

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N: Contrary to popular assumption, I have not died. Sorry about the delay, folks. I have been extremely busy of late and the writing has suffered as a result.

**On a personal note; for all of you avid readers... can one of you please tell me the name of the Harry Potter fan fic wherein: Lily and James Potter have been hiding and have additional children, only making themselves and their betrayal known once the war is over and Harry has triumphed.

Please send me a pm if you know the title of this fiction. Gratefully, MK-ONE

**Chapter Eleven: The Reckoning**

Trembling hands could barely hold the paper that tear filled, bleary eyes could no longer even read.

_It's a mistake. It has to be. He wouldn't have let us think..? Not all this time...?_

Great racking sobs of agonized grief and regret were held at bay by the merest thread when a possible explanation occurred that could pull her awake from this horrific nightmare of unending torment.

_It's got to be some kind of a ploy? Of course, it's a ruse to draw Voldemort out. _

Hermione began to calm now that the initial shock had passed and she was able to look at things from a more logical perspective.

_Very clever, genius even, but the Dark Lord will see right through it. Though,... can he really take the chance? If Harry were really alive he would pose a threat to Voldemort as no one else ever could,(not even Dumbledore at the height of his power), especially if he had really been trained as an Unspeakable. It's a trap, obviously, but.. how could Voldemort possibly resist what with so many high ranking Ministerial staff and visiting dignitaries in attendance?_

She knew with all certainty..._He couldn't._

Hermione knew it was a trap to draw Voldemort out. The entire newspaper article was nothing more than an advertisement to get Voldemort's attention and nothing would do that better than the name: Harry Potter.

It was genius, sheer genius. The fact alone that Wraith was going to be receiving the Order of Merlin for rescuing hostages and likewise decimating his forces was enough to have the Dark Lord salivating for revenge, but to add Harry Potter to the mix as a possible target, however unlikely, and it was a done deal.

He would come and the Unspeakables would be waiting.

Hermione paused in her musings, she wished it were true. Every day she hoped she would wake up and find out it had been just that; a ploy, but ..he was gone. There was no bringing back the dead.

How she longed that she could accept the headlines at face value. That she could see her missing friend again if even for a moment. What she wouldn't give for just a few spar seconds to tell him how much she loved and missed him.

_Don't go there Hermione. Don't do this to yourself again._ She warned herself, scrubbing at her still moist eyes with the sleeve of her blouse. She busied herself with cleaning up the remains of her breakfast, starting by throwing out the Prophet to avoid being haunted by the headline staring ominously up at her from the breakfast table.

She didn't know what the Unspeakables had planned, but she had an invitation to the awards ceremony and one way or another she was going if for nothing more than curiosity's sake. Who knows, maybe she'd even get to see the Dark Lord fall. At least then Harry could finally rest in peace.

* * *

At the entrance to the Hall of Mysteries a crowd of reporters had gathered seeking entrance, interviews, comments, anything..?

Likewise a young witch was growling and threatening impotently to gain entrance, but had thus far been coolly rebuffed by one of a half dozen Unspeakables, that were guarding the entrance, dressed in battle robes.

Susan had already given up crying and pleading which had accomplished nothing more than humiliating herself.

She'd even played the "my aunt's the minister" card which had gotten nothing more than a roll of the eyes from one guard and a condescending snicker, at her pathetic play at nepotism, from the other.

Finally giving it up for a lost cause, she stomped her foot irately on the second guard's foot with a growl of frustration and scurried away amidst jeers and laughter of approval from the equally frustrated press corp.

She was beyond irritated and hastily approaching murderously desperate when she bullied her way into her Aunt's outer office and demanded to see the minister immediately.

Alerted by the commotion, her niece had already caused downstairs in the lobby, her aunt had been expecting her as evidenced by her voice coming over the intercom with a sugary sweet, condescending tone that only served to raise her hackles further.

"Do come in, Susan, before you make an even greater fool of yourself- if that's even possible?"

With an indignant huff, Susan tramped into her aunt's office and without preamble accused...

"How could you?"

"How could I what, dear?" her aunt goaded with an innocent expression that Susan knew was just veiled smugness.

"How could you lie to me?"

Amelia Bones cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at that asking further, "Exactly how have I supposedly lied to you, Su-san." she drawled her name in a sort of warning fashion that immediately had Susan on her guard, knowing that her aunt would not tolerate much more of her behavior, but she was still too angry to care.

"You said that Harry Potter died, that his remains were incinerated and his ashes spread." she spat back accusingly.

Amelia pulled a face of indignation at that. "And that's exactly what happened, Susan. Exactly!" Amelia returned icily with dread certainty.

Susan hadn't exactly knew what she had expected, but it certainly wasn't that and she instantly deflated, slumping into one of the chairs in front of her aunt's desk.

"B-But the ministry said he's alive? That he.. the Unspeakbles faked... his ..death...Oh?" The light of sudden understanding lit up her features.

"It's just a trick to draw out Voldemort." She sighed disappointedly, her eyes growing suspiciously moist.

Her aunt just shot her an sympathetic look, but neither confirmed nor denied her suspicions.

Grief and regret had turned to hope, then to anger and now back to regret. Susan cursed herself for daring to hope. It was like all of her dreams coming true only to wake and find out they were just that-dreams.

Amelia wanted to gather her niece up into her arms and tell her everything, but it was still too early.

Harry had decided to come out, so to speak, only on his terms and at his chosen time.

In two days the entirety of Wizarding Europe would either be celebrating as never before or grieving again. She chose to believe the former, but nothing was certain.

Voldemort was mortal; his horcruxes destroyed, but for all of that he was a formidable wizard and he would not gone down easily, if at all.

Amelia came around her desk and wrapped a supportive arm around her niece's trembling shoulders, pressing a sorely needed handkerchief into her hands.

"I'm sorry child. I wish..." she left off regretfully. "I wish I knew what to say or do to ease this burden and take away your pain. All I can really say is have faith, dear."

Susan shook her head in denial as she wiped at her eyes with the handkerchief.

Amelia sighed, patting the distraught girl's back reassuringly. Two days seemed an awfully long way off just now.

* * *

Voldemort stared at the Prophet story with a look of utter disdain whilst the Death Eater that delivered the newspaper trembled expectantly.

He wished he could kill the fool, but there were so few left that he could ill afford lowering their waning numbers yet more.

He'd already crucio'd the dog liberally, but even that yielded no satisfaction.

_Potter-Lives? Preposterous! _He glowered down at the headline. It was a childish trap to draw him out. He knew that Amelia Bones, for all her contempt, did not consider him a fool, but a worthy and dangerous adversary.

Begrudgingly, he considered her and the Unspeakables the same- a dangerous adversary.

For that alone he couldn't let this slide as so many top ranking officials would be in one place and at the same time.

It was the sort of chance he'd waited patiently for; the chance to destroy the ministry and establish his new regime all in one fell swoop.

_Amelia Bones knows that I know it's a trap. Is she intentionally challenging me by this insult to my intelligence?_

On the other side of the coin...

"_Could Potter still be alive, masquerading as this..Wraith, who has so vexed my plans?_

It seemed impossible, but this was Potter, after all.

_When had the impossible not aligned itself with Potter? But no... he was dead. _

He knew for a fact he was dead as he'd felt the connection between them sever at the point of Potter's death. He'd felt the gut wrenching drain of yet another horcrux being destroyed, weakening him more than he cared to ever divulge.

He knew that both Bones and Wraith were goading him, rubbing his face in his recent loses by the absurdity of having an awards ceremony in the first place, let alone playing the Potter card.

With a disgusted growl he tore the newspaper to shred and order his quivering lackey to summon the remainder of his troops.

Bones and company were inviting him. _It would be rude to ignore so gracious an invitation._

* * *

"If you wanted pandemonium, you certainly got it, kid." Cam chided, slapping his shoulder good naturedly, referring to the chaos in the minister lobby generated by his announcement.

"Pandemonium? This is nothing. Wait until you get a load of the fallout from the "Awards Ceremony" now that's gonna be a show stopper." Raven threw in his opinion.

"Alright you lot, enough of the banter and let's go over the plan." Dragon ordered, silencing the room.

"What do you think he's gonna throw at us, Harry." Griffon asked, not bothering to use his code name as it was a mute point now. Even so, it got an ironic raise of the eyebrow from his young protégé.

"Not that I'm complaining mine, but it's a bit premature to resurrect the whole Harry Potter hysteria, isn't it? I give myself a less than fifty-fifty chance of surviving the night. Madam Bones will probably be awarding my medal posthumously."

"That's enough of that kind of talk, kid." Griffon piped in irritated by his attitude.

Harry pulled an incredulous face at that. "Maybe, but I don't have a clue what "the power he knows not" is ?" he drew quotation marks in the air referring to the prophecy regarding he and Voldemort. "For all I know it could be my prowess at cards,.. er.. which reminds me.. you still owe me twenty galleons from last week's poker game, Dozer."

"How about I pay you **after** the awards ceremony?" Dozer offered with a smirk, referencing his friend's lament of probably not surviving.

_(Field operational meetings always started the same way with some good natured banter to defuse the stress and usually team leaders allowed operatives the chance to blow off some steam as it was good for the morale and more often than not their spit balling usually came up with some good ideas.)_

The rest of the room snorted a laugh at that.

"welcher" Harry grumbled.

After the laughter subsided, Griffon pressed, "Back on track- what's he gonna hit us with?"

"Everything" Wraith ventured which at first cast a pall over the room until he added with a chuckle at irony of what this meant. "Which is about a dozen low ranking Death Eaters, give or take a few, a handful of giants and maybe a few odd dementors and a spare vampire or two."

"What, that's it?" Dozer snorted incredulously. "That's nothing. We could take that lot all on our lonesome."

"Don't forget about big baddie himself." Dragon reminded.

"Ah, go on, the kid'll take him easy."Chameleon snorted dismissively at that to which Harry rolled his eyes at his friend's enthusiasm.

"The giants could be a problem?" Griffon conjectured.

"Dozer and Stalker could take out one, maybe even all of them if they're quick about it." Wraith suggested.

"And just how are we supposed to do that?" Stalker returned skeptically sarcastic.

"Simple, use your animagus claws and fangs to sever their Achilles' tendons then Dozer can just knock em over with a good head of steam. Two thousand pounds of bull can move a giant easy. Once their down they ain't getting back up. They might flail about a bit but that's about it." Harry explained with a shrug of indifference as if it were just that simple.

The rest of the room stared at him for several minutes before he finally asked.. "What?"

Dragon shook his head to clear the cob webs, replying: "That's just stupid enough to actually work."

The room began laughing and Dozer socked his young friend in the arm chuckling, "What a brilliant tactician you are- you Git".

"Has every one checked their wands and armor?" Dragon reminded. All Unspeables wore dragon hide vests under their battle robes which were also charmed resistant to curses and could withstand lesser powered hexes and jinxes on their own. The dragon hide could repel everything short of a killing curse. Some even had the rarely obtainable Ukranian Iron Belly hide which could supposedly stop even a killing curse a time or two, but no one was willing to test the validity of that selling point.

"I want full battle gear including survival packs fully stocked with healing potions and pepper ups. I want this thing done right and proper, once and for all." Dragon instructed.

They were purposely leaving themselves open to attack to draw Voldemort out in an all or nothing gamble. They along with the rest of the ministry wanted this thing over and Voldemort- dead.

Clapping his hands together, Dragon got down to business. "Alright, here's what we're gonna do. Raven, Cam, Dozer and Stalker...I want you three on reconnaissance outside the ministry. Ghost team will likewise monitor the interior along with Shadow Team as Ghost team is currently down a field operative, however, Night Wisp will be monitoring the magical sensors we're placing strategically around the Ministry, Gringotts and Diagon Alley. Gringotts is onboard with an entire Goblin Battalion ready to engage at a moment's notice. They will primarily defend Diagon Alley and Gringotts proper. It's possible that Voldemort will play for creating widescreen destruction in Diagon Alley, knowing as he will that the Ministerial Building will be defended, thinking the Alley will be easy pickings. I almost wish he'd give that a try as those Goblins are damn cruel when they get in a battle rage."

The room jeered at the prospect.

Dragon continued... "We still maintain he'll make a play for taking the Ministry as it's just too juicy a target to let slip. If he goes for the sweep of the Ministry and I think we can all agree that we'd appreciate it?"

He paused again and many operatives snorted a laugh at that.

"As I said, if he breaches the Ministry proper, neither reconnaissance team is to engage until Voldie-turd has breached the interior of the building. Remember- you've got a ten second window to breach the interior of the building before the wards go up. If you're not inside by then you won't be until the dust settles. Ten seconds from the moment Volde-jerk's arse clears the door -no more"

Everyone nodded at that, repeating as one-"Ten seconds".

"Ourselves..ahem,..." Dragon cleared his throat meaningfully which elicited feral grins from his subordinates,.. "and teams of aurors will be stationed around the hall outside the ballroom .." he paused nodding meaningfully to several operatives who nodded their understanding as he continued without missing a beat... "as a show of force, but the aurors will disengage, when things start to get dicey leaving us as lambs up for the proverbial slaughter after which Big Bad will think he's won. In his overconfidence he most likely will proceed to try and take out as many ministerial heads, including Minister Bones; who will undoubtedly be his primary target and has graciously offered herself as our bait."

Many chuckled and jeered at this knowingly.

"Once he takes the bait, hit em hard and fast. The Minister and by this I mean the **real **Minister Bones.." he paused and several men chuckled and jeered at Wraith's expense.

"Minister Bones has signed an affidavit allowing us the use of Unforgivables for the evening of the Ball."

"Damn nice of her."

"Always liked Madam Bones."

"Nice figure" Stalker added with a smirk, earning himself a glare from Dragon for his cheek and jeers from his teammates.

"Milf magnet" came from Cam.

"I thought your animagus was a panther, not a cougar?" from Raven.

"Some sort of mommy fixation, I'd wager?" Griffon added with a wink, adding.. "Probably into diapers and powder and..."

"Here now!" Stalker interrupted outraged by the insinuation.

The room burst into laughter at that. Except Dragon who was still eyeing Stalker suspiciously, not liking his interest in the object of Dragon's interest.

They were discrete to the point of paranoia, but for all that she was still his girlfriend. Should this thing end tomorrow night, they could and would take things to the next level.

"All right, all right you lot.. let's keep the ladies out of it, my apologies to our female contingent for the attitudes of a few."

The few looked anything but contrite at this.

"Any question?" he asked, intending to wrap things up her before the final briefing scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.

"Yeah, any suggestions on how to take out Voldemort?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Rap him over the bean a couple of dozen times with a cricket bat." one offered in the back.

"Curse him with an arse clamping hex and then pump him full of a couple of thousand laxatives and let nature take its course." another put in hopefully, eliciting many winces and snorts of amusement along with nods of appreciation for originality.

"Give him a mirror that ought to do it!" the room erupted in laughter at that.

"Hit him with a castration hex and then a warming charm." The room went deadly quiet at Cho Chang's offering, causing most of the male contingent to immediately sober and cross their legs warily. The female contingent laughed and jeered after at the suggestion, or maybe it was the reaction of their male counterparts?

Cho was understandably prejudiced.

Griffon was wiping away tears of laughter when he haltingly fought down another bout of side splitting laughter to suggest..." Let's not k-kill him at all."

"What?!"

"Huh?"

He fanned his hands begging the room's indulgence while he explained. "L-Let's curse off the buggers l-legs and arms and plant his arse on a giant s-spring inside one of those "Jack in the box" toys my kids love to play with."

Shocked stares of some greeted his suggestion whilst his teammates began to roll around in their seats laughing fit to bust when Griffon finished explaining that...

"We could put a coin slot on the b-box by the mu-music crank. Voldie could pop out and threaten impotently for a sickle a turn-Ha!"

Even Dragon couldn't help himself at that mental image. He was bent over and wheezing as he tried to catch his breath between guffaws.

"Since we can use _Unforgivables_; let's put him under an _imperious _and make him sing nursery rhymes instead?" one managed to squeak out sending the room into chaos.

Everyone had just started to calm down a tad when another suggested: "I say we bronze the arse and make a new magical fountain out of him to grace the Ministry Lobby. Something tasteful like... one of those winged cherubs that spouts water from their pee-pee. Har-Har-Har!"

It was several minutes before a semblance of control returned and Dragon shushed his very confident, but not otherwise helpful, Unspeakables quiet.

He shot Wraith an apologetic look. "Sorry, Harry, but I think only you can answer your own question in this case. You're an exceptional wizard, but what exactly can you do that Voldemort can't or at least doesn't know about?"

He never got a chance to answer, not that he even had one, before his fellows started chiming in.

"He plays a mean game of gob stones." one offered.

"A veritable cardsharp when it comes to poker."

"A cheat more like." Dozer grumbled under his breath.

"He can touch the tip of his tongue to his nose."

"Really?"

"It's true, I've saw him do it one time when he had a bit of dessert on it."

Several snorted at that, whilst Harry grumbled something unkind under his breath.

The rest of his comrades continued unabated...

"He's a top notch flyer."

"Maybe he could challenge him to a race and bump the bugger into the side of a building or something?"

"He's double jointed."

"That should make him right popular with the birds." Stalker threw in with a churlish grin and a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

A couple of female operatives giggled at that. One bold one added her preference that, "I like a man who's flexible."

"Females too, I heard." another added followed by a round of snickers.

"I had bit too much one night, so there." she defended herself.

"I'm not even touching that one." a fellow shot back and a wave of bawdy laughter and jeers echoed throughout the briefing room.

"Why do I even bother?" Wraith sighed and left the room thinking himself unnoticed during a fresh round of continued barbs.

Dragon watched him go, mumbling disappointedly to himself, without trying to stop him. What was there to say? He had no more clue than the rest of the men and women under his command. His fellow Unspeakables knew what he was up against and as much as they joked about it to try and raise his flagging spirits and reassure him; none of them would readily take his place. It was just that daunting a task-Kill Voldemort.

It had been tried, many times before in self defense, but no one in their right mind actually sought out such a duel. There were duels and there were suicide attempts and fighting Voldemort was generally considered just that-Suicide.

Voldemort was just that powerful and he knew it which means he was just that much more dangerous as he was so confident in his abilities that he rarely if ever made a mistake as he fought with not only an extreme ferocity, but with a level head. He was cool and calculating under fire; a deadly combination.

Wraith, Harry Potter- was not. He was powerful- very powerful. Whether he was in Voldemort's league though? He fought passionately and had an uncanny ability to turn certain defeat to a victory; in other words he was lucky. He had matured greatly since the days of school when he let his temper too often get the better of him. He had made gains to be sure and was well experienced, but for all that he was nowhere near Volemort's league in most respects. And luck only got you so far and then usually–it ran out.

* * *

Blue eyes stared long and hard into the surface of the pond. At times he wished he could see his own green eyes staring back at him once more. Even the tell tale 'lightning bolt' scar was a vast improvement over the scars that now riddled his face, courtesy of Voldemort and his minions.

The irony that he was scarred again at Voldemort's behest was not lost on him. It was something which he planned to return in kind. Whether he rose from the ashes or fell under wand fire at least one thing he promised himself: he would give Voldemort scars to remember him by.

Not that the snake faced bastard ever looked in the mirror, but still, it was the thought that count. Voldemort would know they were there and the thought that he wasn't all powerful would gnaw at him, megalomaniac that he was.

Eventually Wraith brushed his finger through the water obscuring his reflection. The healers claimed they could remove most of the scars, but what difference did it make? It wasn't him and besides it wasn't like he was handsome to begin with.

He felt like an island; alone and isolated in a world that didn't really know he even existed until discovered by some turn of fate.

He wondered about many things, even whether other soldiers and such pondered their own mortality on the eve of battle.

He wasn't so much feeling sorry for himself as he was feeling disconnected- alone.

At what point had the killing become a necessity, easier even? Had it always been so only he was too thick and, or idealistic to realize it at the time?

He knew he could kill Voldemort, or at least he wanted to-badly. There we others whom the thought of killing did not repulse him as it might once have had. Voldemort was the opposite extreme in that he would relish the opportunity if it came.

Killing him would be worth a thousand such "Order of Merlin" awards. It would be something he would remember and appreciate the rest of his days. It might not help his family or the countless victims of the dark lord rest easier, but the living would surely appreciate his absence from their lives.

Odd that he hadn't thought of his family in so long? It wasn't that he was too busy to do so, but more an intentional disassociation. He'd be lying if he contemplated having done so to keep his mind free and unfettered to concentrate on the task at hand. He had done so more out of fear.

Somewhere he had heard it said once that those that committed suicide were doomed in death. That thought had stayed with him and prayed on his mind for many long fear filled nights after his attempt.

Would he be denied rejoining them should he die for true? Would he be forgiven and allowed to enter paradise only to be faced with seeing the shame they felt for him mirrored in their eyes over what he'd done and what he'd become as a result?

Wouldn't that be worse than perdition's flames?

So many questions, worries,.. tasks left undone... all save one or three.

He could at least go to his destiny with few such obstacles removed from society.

It was like a sliver under the skin of your finger. It didn't really obstruct your daily activities, more of a hindrance or painful reminder; a nuisance until removed and cast away- forgotten in a trice.

Albus Dumbledore, among others was the sliver beneath his skin begging to be extracted.

The Unspeakables had generously put off dealing with Albus Dumbledore purely for selfish reasons. They knew that if by some miracle he survived captivity at the Dark Lord's hands, he would want to deal with Dumbledore himself, personally.

He'd waited until the very eve of either what was to be his triumph or his demise so that if it proved to be the latter he would at least have Dumbledore's comeuppance to comfort him before he died.

Pulling himself from his dark and morbid ponderings he set about taking care of those little things that could make one's passing that much more easy; if there really was such a thing?

He walked with purpose back to the Bones mansion and let himself in the kitchen door. He was heading for the apparition point at the end of the hall just past the family room when a gasp caught his attention.

"There you are,.. but why aren't you dressed?" Susan's relief turned to minor reproof.

She turned her back to him and asked.. "Could you?" referring to her half raised zipper.

He rolled his eyes at her veiled attempt to tease as he knew that any witch worth her salt could take care of such with just a simple tap of her wand and a first year levitation charm.

Certainly a charms mistress could.

The fact that she was wearing what was arguably the most stunning evening gown he'd ever beheld along with the faint pink that tinged her skin at his mere touch was not lost on him.

His own hands trembled slightly as he slowly pulled her zipper up, relishing the way it molded the bodice of her dress to her beautiful curves.

Once done his hands drifted to her shoulders and held her gently for a moment as he sighed appreciatively over her shoulder into the mirror she was standing in front of.

"You look stunning, Susan." he complemented simply.

Susan gasped slightly, her soft blue eyes rising up to meet his reflected ones. "T-Thank you." she stammered, herself trembling slightly beneath his touch, her cheeks pinking up.

He wanted to tell her who and what he was, but decided it really didn't matter just now as it would most likely ruin her even and what would it matter in the greater scheme if he fell in battle tonight.

"You better hurry up and put on your dress uniform or you'll be late for your own award's celebration." She patted his hand reassuringly, silently intimating that she would wait for him.

"I have some things I need to take care of first. Why don't you go with your aunt and I'll catch up later."

"But..." she began disappointedly, but he cut her off by placing a small chaste kiss to the side of her cheek, offering a parting... "You do look so incredible..."

Susan turned around with an excited gasp but he was already gone.

* * *

Harry walked the bowels of the ministry where those in disfavor, with no possibility of advancement, went about their menial tasks in relative anonymity.

He paused before one such dilapidated office front. The paint was faded and chipped and the glass of the door was so grimy that it hardly needed to be frosted for privacy sake as the look of it alone would cause others to remember they had more pressing concerns elsewhere.

The name on the door however stood out in blood, important looking block print, proudly proclaiming the office's resident with the title of the office itself so small beneath to be almost indiscernible.

_My how the mighty have fallen? _What was a career launching start for one was a place of neglect and shame for another.

The door proclaimed: **Dolores Umbridge**

Cauldron weight and thickness regulation

With a smirk of satisfaction, Wraith toed the door open, not trusting to try the filthy handle lest he contaminate himself with not only grime but with the stain of bigotry and a false perception of self importance.

The air was fairly rife with it.

By contrast to the dim hallway and dejected door front of the office before him, (barely a closet for some), the inside was pink from floor to ceiling with pictures and plates of kittens of all sizes and descriptions that were cavorting with balls of string, rubber mice, pawing at goldfish bowls and the like.

It was a good thing he'd thought to take an anti-nausea potion before coming lest he sick up at the sight. It was decorated like some bizarre nursery school for ballerina and princess wannabes.

Worse yet was the pink frilly nightmare that was planted behind a desk heavily laden with what appeared to be cauldron reports; enough to occupy a lifetime and then some.

Her hair was pulled down and brushed to the sides from the middle which only added to draw attention to her wide face and flat head perched atop her squat frame. Like some hideous toad that was too lazy to hunt, she was sticking out her tongue between her teeth as if she were waiting for a fly to land of its own accord.

She puffed up importantly at seeing a potential distraction, but a sneer marred her face when she took in his muggle clothes.

"Muggle relations is two floor up." she snapped in dismissal.

Wraith flashed his badge, immediately garnering the hideous woman's attention as she perked up in instant recognition.

"So my superiors have finally succumbed to the obvious and wish to reemploy my many valuable talents." she assumed, grinning predatorily. "I assume I'm needed for some very important undercover work that, such that an Unspeakble officer has been sent to beg my services?"

She wore that same smug, self deluded air of importance that her relegation to the bowels of obscure and relative meaningless duty had failed to flush out of her.

"Indeed, we could think of no better candidate for so vital a task." Wraith cajoled in earnest. "Truly the future welfare of wizarding world hinges upon your successful completion of so needful an _undertaking_." he drawled that last meaningfully, enjoying the way her eyes took on a lascivious and calculating gleam thinking to parlay the Ministry's need into a coup for herself.

He wiped out several pages of parchment which he presented to her for her perusal.

Umbridge immediately scanned the sheets before her, brushing her reports aside, already plotting who she could saddle with what she now believed her previous position.

Excitement turned immediately to confusion as she looked up from the many pages held within her greedy hands.

"I don't understand,.. there's nothing written here?"

"That's because you haven't wrote it yet." Harry pounced in hope filled revenge as he brought his holly and phoenix feather wand to bear and leveled it between her startled eyes as he pulled a "blood quill" from his pocket and placed it on the desk before her.

Dolores' eyes bulged in recognition. "No,.. get out, how dare you..!" she managed to recover enough to try and bluster her way out of her impending doom.

"How dare I?" Harry questioned in a comical air. "How dare you take advantage of school children? It was your sacred duty to educate and protect innocent children, but instead you used your authority to abuse and bully, _scarring_ many of them for life." He drew particular attention the word _scarring_, and was intrigued to see that she caught the reference and it rattled her accordingly.

"How could you...who're you..?' she gasped fearfully.

He held up the back of his unblemished hand and answered. "Were I still within the confines of my, now destroyed, body... the term: "I must not tell lies" would be engraved into the flesh of my then fifteen year old hand.

Umbridge eyes nearly popped from her head and she looked as if she would sick up as she still pleaded in denial that..."No..no one knows.. it's not possible... he's dead...?"

Harry smirked cruelly at that enjoying the way she suddenly lost her voice. By the acrid smell assaulting his nose, he could tell that was not all she'd lost as she suddenly realized just who was standing before her.

Only one person knew what she'd done to Potter and that was Potter. Just like there was only one person who commanded a Holly and Phoenix feather wand like the one pointed between her now tear filled eyes.

The wand flicked to the parchment that was clutched tightly in her shaking hands.

"You have lines to write." he demanded coolly.

"W-What shall I w-write, t-then..?" Dolores asked in a tremulous voice as her hand struggled to pick up the blood quill, dropping it several times in apprehension.

He kindly cast a sticking charm so that she could maintain her grip on the quill though she didn't appear to appreciate the gesture, no more so than what he told her to write.

"How many t-tmies?" she tearfully asked, resolved to her punishment.

He borrowed a leaf from her page and informed her. "Until the message _sinks_ in." He smirked appreciatively at the way she shuddered in recollection of what she'd once told him to do.

Too make sure she did just that he hit her with a compulsion charm that was just short of an _imperious_ in strength.

With a satisfied nod that justice would eventually be served he left her to her intense work.

They would find her, some many days later, by accident as no one would intentionally go looking for Dolores Umbridge out of work interest, let alone concern for her well being.

The walls of her office would be covered with writings in her own blood, she a lifeless husk sprawled over her desk with the words: '_I must not eat flies'_ craved, down to the bone, in the back of her hand.

He loved his job.

Merlin, how he hoped he'd survive the night so that he could continue to serve the public's welfare for the betterment of society.

A half hour later he was sitting serenely, enjoying a cup of tea whilst he waited to catch up on old times.

It had been too long since he'd paid a visit to his dear relatives, far too long for such _close _relations.

He knew well enough how his peers visited on his behalf and would undoubtedly continue to do so the regardless of the evening's outcome.

They were good friends, much like the Weasley twins in that respect.

It was just going five in the evening and like clockwork his dear uncle's sedan pulled up the drive.

Aunt Petunia had taken to driving Vernon to and from work, transferring her dotting ways to her appreciative husband, now that her sweet Diddydums was locked away in prison on a host of _undoubtedly_ trumped up charges. One of which, he was given to understand, was for child abuse and neglect . he couldn't imaging where his dear cousin could have learned such behavior given his stellar upbringing.

_Ah well,.. he'd be out in ten years or so, give or take. Then he could return to being the constructive member of society that was the model of his parentage._

The door slamming and steps down the hall brought him from his wistful musings.

"I'll get started on dinner right away, Vernon dear. Why don't you make yourself comfortable in your chair and I'll bring you a nice martini to enjoy whist you enjoy your show."

"Fine idea pet, fine, but make it a double. Devilishly busy at the office today. Nearly worked myself to the bone."

Harry could hear the man fall into his easy chair with a loud "waumphh" and could swear he'd felt the floor shudder in protest between his feet.

"You over do, dear, you always have." Petunia scolded endearingly.

Harry snorted at that. For Vernon to work himself to the bone he'd need to work twenty-four/ seven, without food, for longer than it would take Dudley to get himself paroled.

Petunia bustled into the kitchen, pulling up short with a gasp of alarm as Harry tipped his cup in acknowledgement to the woman.

"Vernon!" she shrieked. "V-Vernon call the constable, there's an intruder!"

"What?!" Vernon bellowed from the other room. By the sound of the thundering hooves in the hallway, either a water buffalo or his uncle was stampeding his way.

Unfortunately, when the swinging door flew open, it was his wheezing and blustering, whale of an uncle standing there rather than the water buffalo.

He'd of rather the buffalo as they could at least offer the excuse of being a dumb animal.

"Now see here, you cur. Out, get out of my house!" Vernon threatened, pointing a meaty finger in his face, spittle flying from his jowls.

"My rifle pet, fetch my rifle!" He bellowed. "A few rounds in your backside will be a fitting reminder to not prey on decent folk you thieving swine."

Harry chuckled in spite of himself at that. _Talk about the pot calling the kettle black?_

"Dear Uncle, you wound me. Here I was thinking to pop in to catch up over a cuppa with my lovely relatives as long as I was in the neighborhood and this is how I'm treated?" he pleaded innocently, pasting his most sincere look on his face.

"Uncle, what're you on about? You're a nutter, you are? We're decent, normal folks, no relation to common thieves and thugs the likes of you." He blustered while his aunt whimpered her agreement from the hall as she struggled to pull her husband's rifle from the cupboard that once served as Harry's bedroom.

Harry smirked at that, suggesting. "I take it Dudders is an _uncommon _thief and thug then, much like his hard working father?"

Vernon puffed up angrily at that, his face gone puce in his outrage. "So that's it then? You're some scum that preyed on our good boy whilst he's wrongfully imprisoned. Think you can come here and try your luck with us, eh? The police will be here soon enough to finish with what's left of you. My rifle, pet?!" Vernon barked, pawing behind expectantly for her to pass his rifle to him.

With a yelp of surprise, he snatched the rifle in question from his wife's own trembling grasp. He pointed the gun barrel in Wraith's direction and without so much as a last warning he pulled the trigger.

An ominous silence filled the kitchen that was shattered only when Vernon swore and cocked the hammer back and pulled the trigger more violently as if willing the gun to fire on demand.

Wraith sighed and extended his grasped hand, proceeding to drop a handful of cartridges that bounced across the linoleum, rolling uselessly away.

"Wha.. but how..?" Vernon gaped in dread, his wife whimpering fearfully, clutching his shoulder in a death grip as she peered over his enormous bulk.

"I've spent many a long night locked within said cupboard. Many was the time my young hands contemplated using the gun on myself to rid myself of the horror that was existence in this prison of neglect and abuse.

At least Dudders knows why he's undoubtedly being abused by his fellow inmates. For me it was solely that I existed; a difficult concept for an adolescent to comprehend. It's out innocence you see? We convince ourselves that we must have done something wrong to warrant such punishment. It never occurs to us, until we are old enough to understand, that there are monsters in the world that prey upon children just because they can. To make they, themselves feel empowered or in control, or maybe, as in your case; they do it just because they like it."

That said he told the horrified pair a condensed version of his life from the moment he'd tried to end it to his sitting in their kitchen waiting to see them a last time.

"So you've turned out no better than your cowardly parents have you boy? Come to blame us for your lot, eh? Well goodbye and good riddance I say." Vernon spat disgusted, finding his waning courage.

Harry just smiled grimly, refusing to take the bait. He, instead, addressed himself to his cowering aunt, who he could just make out casting furtive glances his way beneath Vernon's sheltering obesity, that the man mistakenly correlated with the intimidation one gleaned from a muscular frame.

"Is that what you believe, dear aunt? We're my mother and father cowards?"

Petunia whimpered fretfully at that, unable to answer, she had least had the semblance of courage to shake her head in denial of that.

Harry nodded his acceptance of her belief. "You're fortunate Vernon."

"How's that boy?" the man blustered back thinking he had the upper hand just now.

"You're fortunate that aunt Petunia does not agree with the insult you stick to my parent's memory. Cowards do not sacrifice themselves to save their child."

"If they had seen how you came out they would have left you to it and saved themselves and good riddance I say." Vernon blustered, trembling in rage.

Harry smirked at that, though his eyes held no hint of mirth. "Perhaps." he agreed.

Petunia joked back a sob of disagreement at that which lightened his heart more than he cared to admit.

"I came here tonight to settle a score long past due- with interest." He held up a hand to forestall the coming outrage from Vernon's quarter.

"First I should like to tell you what it is you seemingly believe to be _worthless_?"

Harry proceeded to outline his family's financial holdings in brief but accurate detail.

At seeing his uncle's shocked to speechless demeanor, he proceeded to turn the knife. "All this I would have gladly shared had I been treated with a modicum of decency and respect. That much should come without any strings attached from one's own family. You would have wanted for nothing-ever.

"B-But Duddly he never.. surely you can see your way clear to...?" Vernon stammered in a pleading on his son's behalf.

"He is his father's son and be all accounts worse that the mold from which he was cast. He could have been, should have been a brother to me, but instead he beat me and forced away any who thought to befriend me. He constantly used me for his cruel jokes and as a scapegoat which you too readily accepted to place the blame upon for you villainous son's own misdeeds."

He made appoint of twisting around as if searching for something. "I see by the lack of Dudley's presence that the public does not share your own misconception of Dudley's innocence."

"Now see here?"Vernon began to argue, but was immediately cut off, literally so, by a silencing charm and a quick pertrificus for good measure.

"That's better" Wraith smiled predatorily.

His aunt immediately wailed despondently and tried to tug Vernon into action.

With a sarcastic sigh of weariness. Harry silenced her as well and banished her into the chair to his left before hitting her with a sticking charm to hold her in place.

"What am I to do with you?" he conjectured in resignation.

"Many, many long nights I've contemplated what I think a fitting punishment for the crimes you committed against me? I realized that I wouldn't be serving justice unless I included what you did to Dudley in that equation as well. Had you done a better job of it, he wouldn't be the villainous thug he is now and by proxy so many others may not have been victimized by the swine."

Harry drummed his fingers impatiently on the table top, relishing the way his aunt flinched each time he did so as he contemplated..."What to do? What to do...?"

"Hmm, I could let my friends visit frequently and inopportune times to make sure and reinforce that knowledge that magic is in fact-**real** and something you are sorely lacking in?"

Petunia whimpered dolefully at that.

"No, you're right,... far too easy and lacks any real finesse. Hmm, I could buy out Grunnings? It wouldn't even make so much as a scratch in my finances, petty little fly by night operation that it is." He enjoyed the way Vernon bristled angrily at this, actually able to tremble in his outrage despite his being petrified.

"I could have you sacked, Vernon."he threatened in consideration. "I could ruin your reputation and any chance of you finding another such viable position, though I'm sure your age and physical stature would damn you towards getting another such lucrative job, that,.. and any real qualifications that don't involve bullying and blustering your way through. If I were you I'd get used to asking: _What size fries and drink did you want with that?_ Ha-Ha-Ha!" he chortled as Vernon looked as if he were going to sick up.

Once he gathered himself, he paused to enjoy the sickly pallor of his relations. Part of him considered leaving them as is to their own misguided fate. They were their own doom. The trouble was is that he couldn't chance they wouldn't squeak by as they always had by deceit and half way decent acting.

They could present themselves as the idyllic couple when they were wanting to, that is: if they had something to gain by it.

Hell, the sick part was that they actually believed they were the _idyllic couple._

_Hmm,.. the idyllic couple?_ he pondered. _It has possibilities_.

With a feral grin of sudden inspiration, he cast several charms in rapid succession over first his beloved aunt and then his troll of an uncle.

Satisfied with his wand work he canceled the silencing and immobilizing charms of previous. Leaving his aunt and uncle wide eyed and gapping as the charms he'd applied began to do their work.

"W-What did you do, boy?" his uncle stammered aghast, feeling that something was amiss, but he couldn't tell what.

"Improved your lot." Harry offered vaguely by way of an answer, before reiterating. "You've always fancied yourself the _ideal_ couple; successful business man and father, doting wife and mother. A beautiful, well kept home and lawn. You've everything that bespeaks a happy, and normal existence."

"That's right, boy and content to remain so once you've left, this time for good!" his uncle both blustered and threatened in the same sentence.

Harry smiled reassuringly. "And so I shall." Harry rose with purpose, appreciating the way they both cringed back warily as if expecting an attack.

Such a waste that would be as they would both prove their own undoing. It wasn't so much a matter of if, but when.

Vernon received a bit of- _oomph_. He applied a very specific compulsion charm to his uncle. It was one that would drive him to unparallel heights in a never ending, unceasing endeavor to succeed. One that no matter how far he could possible rise would never see him satisfied with his lot. He would truly work himself to the bone.

His aunt: poor horse faced, stick figured Petunia would enjoy the attributes that she'd always coveted in her sister, which led to her eternal hatred of her once beloved sibling.

He'd applied a time sensitive _glamour charm_ to his aunt that would gradually improve her supposed physical attributes, subtly ,.. so as not to be readily noticeable over time. Her figure would fill out,.. rounding in all the right places. Her hair would slowly grow in lustrous, long and red. Her face would alter accordingly until she would become a beauty without rival.

They would be the very picture of a perfect couple; a successful business man and his ravishing, albeit devoted wife.

He wondered how long it would be and which would arrive at the conclusion first that they deserved better than the other.

Petunia, if she played her cards right could get any man. She could easily find someone younger and more wealthy than Vernon. Someone with all they had and more, only with a physique to match her own. Shallow people, by that he loosely applied the term 'people' to his aunt and uncle, were indelibly dissatisfied. They always wanted more than what they had.

Vernon, likewise, could land most any none discerning woman who valued success, ie.. _money_, over looks and intelligence. With his already heightened sense of self worth he would undoubtedly think himself entitled to even more than the _perfect wife_.

Harry had tied their subsequent enhancement charm to their idyllic, _normal_ home. Once either left the other and subsequently their once shared home, the charms would fade until they were who they were originally meant to be. Horse faced and stick-like vs. an arrogant and overvalued whale.

He could not help but wonder if they would come to appreciate or curse their _idyllic _existence?

* * *

It was nearly time for the festivities to begin as he ghosted through Hogwarts. He was in no hurry, confident that the object of his interest would be _unintentionally and fashionably_ late.

If it was one thing Dumbledore's ego craved it was making an entrance. Had he his way then this would be his night. Hell, if Dumbledore had his way than every night would be his night.

The man craved being the center of attention.

He paused in front of the stone gargoyle guarding the stair to the headmaster's office. It was just one more needless ego boost. Really, why did the headmaster require a sentinel in a school full of children who could barely hold a wand their first three years and were nowhere near his level of mastery at seventh?

The gargoyle was no more than a figure head, a symbol of prestige.

Wraith smirked at the gargoyle that raised a stony eyebrow in concern at the way he was being dissected.

Deciding at length that he didn't like what the man's smirk portended, he abandoned his post in favor of not ending up fortifying the pebbled walkway to Hogsmeade.

Not bothering to knock he let himself in and waited silently whilst the object of his interest busied himself in his private chamber with readying himself for attending the Ministerial Ball.

From what Wraith could glean, from the partially opened door, the way the headmaster primped and preened you'd think he was the guest of honor.

It was long minutes before Dumbledore was finally satisfied with the tilt of his moon and star hat and turned from his mirror with a last appreciative smile at his visage.

Aging blue eyes twinkling expectantly as he walked into his office only to find another pair of expectant blue eyes waiting for him.

His own smile disappeared and he warily sat down behind his desk, never taking his eyes from the man in front of him.

"W-What do you want?" he asked, struggling to appear calm though a slight tremor in his voice betrayed him.

"My reward." Wraith answered simply.

"Then hadn't you better be on your way to the ministry? I do believe the party's already begun."

"Indeed it has." Wraith answered with dread certainty. "It's a good thing your dressed for the occasion as you'll be needing to look your best for your day in court, much good as it will do you?" he chided facetiously.

Dumbeldore's expression turned puzzled. "I'm not sure I follow?"

Wraith smiled that same cool smirk of knowing that he'd fixed his former sentinel with outside.

Dumbledore found himself no more at ease than his guardian had previously under that calculating grin.

Wraith tossed a newspaper on Dumbledore's desk... it was tomorrow's edition.

The lead article read in bold letters that no one could miss: **Dumbledore Arrested for Treason!**

"What madness is this?" The old goat scoffed indignantly.

Wraith smirked again. "I assure you, whilst it is tomorrow's edition it is by no means a prediction other than that it will warrant first page as the lead story. I'm guessing it will take a back seat to tonight's proceedings, perhaps a contributing or filler story for pages six or seven, but it will still catch the reader's interest for all that."

The old man's eye began to twitch as he struggled mightily to hold his building rage in check whilst Wraith turned the knife.

"Your days of garnishing front page news are long since past. Did you really think you would get away with cursing me in the back and leaving me to Voldemort's tender mercies would go unnoticed? The Unspeakables have spent the past months building the case against you and I can assure you won't slip away from legal obligation playing your benevolent grandfather role nor by falling back on the ever popular "For the greater good" excuse, not when all you've been up to comes to light. The goblins have scrutinized you financial records. They have black and white proof of your having usurped magical guardianship for the orphan Harry Potter, against the express wishes and provisions of his parent's iron clad will. Likewise, they've followed the paper trail and have rock solid proof of your having plundered said orphan's inheritance to fund your little support group as well as your expensive, albeit garish, taste in clothes and other excesses." He cast his arms wide across the breadth of the old man's office, drawing attention to his many, highly expensive, trinkets and aged tomes.

"You will be charged with **treason **for your having attacked an officer of the ministry, thereby leaving him at the mercy of the very terrorist he was defending the public, including you own ungrateful arse, against. Add to that fraud, grand theft and if I have my way; offensive facial hair!"

The facial tic had grown to outlandish proportions as Dumbledore's trade mark benevolent smile had long since fled in favor of the nervous eyes of a felon seeking escape.

Dumbledore tensed, his own fingers inching toward his wand as Wraith calmly displayed his wand-less hands and extracted a folded paper from the breast pocket of his jacket.

"What's that?" he spat worriedly as Wraith pushed the folded parchment across the old man's desk.

"A warrant for your arrest." Wraith answered smugly. "I intend to take you in tonight in front of the entire Ministerial assembly whereby you will humiliated and degraded to the fullest measure under the intense scrutiny of most of Europe's major press corp. which by this time tomorrow will be baying for your blood."

"H-Harry..." the old man cleared his throat and tried to proceed with feigned assuredness... "Harry, couldn't we settle our differences more amicably, albeit privately?" he nearly begged in his most grandfatherly tone.

Harry nodded, reassuring the old man before he pulled the rug out from beneath him. "Like we did in this very office when we offered you the chance to retire quietly with your dignity, such that it is, intact?"

The hopeful smile fell from Dumbledore's face but quickly returned when Harry suggested. "I believe I have a solution that will allow you to avoid an unpleasant and fruitless legal battle that will at the very least leave you both penniless and publicly vilified or kissed by a dementor at the worst and most likely outcome?"

"I'll do anything,.. please..?" the old man begged clinging to the lifeline he had yet to name as a possible solution to Dumbledore's dilemma.

"Very well, option B it is." Harry agreed. He walked to Dumbledore's heightened office window and opened the latch, swinging the stained glass open and beckoning. "You may take the option I once did at seeing naught, but pain and despair as my present and future whereas you will be merely trying to avoid the coming disgrace to salvage your own vanity."

Dumbledore's face paled dramatically. "But Harry,.. surely we can... ?"

"Choose?" he demanded cutting the old man off in mid plea.

With a last fond look at the office he so enjoyed for so long.. the many comforts, the prestige... with a broken countenance, Dumbledore walked tremulously to the waiting window.. and faltered... his courage failing him.

"I..I can't... C-Couldn't we...?"

Upon a time he would have shown mercy and pitied the old man who had once held such a place of esteem within his heart, but that time was passed. Any thoughts of kindness and compassion were dashed when the stunning spell hit him in the back leaving him to certain torture and eventual death at Voldemort's hands.

"No" Wraith stoically denied the old man's plea and helped him find the courage to do what was right, not what was easy.

He left the newspaper on the old manipulator's desk. It would serve as more potent and understandable a suicide note that any last minute despondent scratching could.

With no less a troubled heart than when he came, he left Hogwarts without a backward glance for what was. Such happy memories from another life here were few and far between. Despite all he'd faced and suffered as an Unspeakable, he could at least comfort himself in the knowledge that he had accomplished some small measure of securing the public safety by destroying the enemies of peace and freedom.

Dumbledore deserved to be humiliated and ultimately destroyed for the part he played in ruining so many lives. He could forgive the old man for so many things but stabbing him in the back was not one of them.

His hiring of Snape alone warranted the veil for subsequent neglect and malfeasance for which the student population suffered scorn and ridicule. Dreams were crushed. Parents and students lives snuffed out as Snape had the inside track on muggle student's homes and vulnerabilities. How many lives had Snape personally destroyed under his guise of Dumbledore's spy when he was really a double agent for the dark? How many such could be laid at the old man's feet for his extreme foolishness in trusting a man that so many clearly didn't and for good reason?

He would not mourn Dumbledore nor would he regret being the final instrument of facilitating his demise.

He was nothing more than a loose end to see to before he faced his own mortality with a freeing sense of resolution.

He had complete faith in that McGonagal would perform brilliantly in Dumbledore's stead. She would see to making this the kind of supportive and healthy environment that would develop talent and help young minds flourish. She would herald in a new and better age of scholastic achievement where grades, quidditch and relationships would be the only concerns to occupy young minds.

Hogwarts would now become the kind of place he once thought it was before he came and found out it was nothing more than a grassy field to fatten the sacrificial lamb.

* * *

Wraith arrived at the Ministerial awards ceremony and Ball in trainers, a pair of jeans and a dark green polo shirt.

No dress uniform as he'd been reminded to wear innumerable times.

No dragon hide armor as had been insisted upon for all Unspeakables in attendance, but especially so for him.

Madam Bones shot him a reproving look and Dragon actually found the time to sidle up and growl menacingly his displeasure.

As far as he was concerned there was more than enough formal wear, monkey suits and evening gowns crammed into one room already, but that wasn't the reason he was dressed as he was.

Nor was it a snub of authority or a show of protest toward receiving the nation's highest magical citation.

There was no politically motivated agenda for his lack of proper decorum. He simply was comfortable in what he was wearing and if he was going to be fighting for his life he was going to do so unhindered by dress garb and bulky armor.

If he was going to duke it out with the big bad then one thing was for sure; he was going to have to move fast to avoid a lot of cruciatus and killing curses.

One did not dodge curses well in dress robes and dragon hide wouldn't stop killing curses.

If he was going to survive the night then it would be on his terms. If not, then he hoped that he would be able to die on his terms.

One rarely if ever had the choice for either where Voldemort was concerned.

So many lovely ladies graced the dance floor on the arm of gallant gentlemen. He wished he could enjoy the evening, but he was just wound too tight for that simple pleasure.

He was just availing himself of a short single malt from the bar when a hand clamped on his arm and spun him around.

"None of that, good sir. A dance if you please. " a female voice demanded.

She wore a flattering blue velvet strapless gown that hugged her now more mature curves. She even showed more cleavage than he would have thought she would have ever been comfortable with, but time and people change, often for the better as evidenced by the soft curls that fell past her barred shoulders, drawing attention to her creamy skin.

Hermione had grown from a budding beauty to the real deal as they say.

Wraith smirked and gathered Hermione into his arms and near crushed her to his chest, giving himself an ample view of her now more exposed breasts..

"Whoa down there big boy. I'm not that kind of girl." His partner admonished pressing away until they were a more modest distant apart.

"What, and miss this opportunity to satisfy a childhood fantasy?" he complained disappointedly.

"I thought you said she was like a sister to you?" his partner asked in surprise.

"She was." he admitted.

Hermione pulled a face at that. "Well, if that isn't just a bit disturbing-pervert."

Wraith shrugged helplessly mid waltz to plead his case. "Give a guy a break it's not like I've ever even gone on a date. I must be Britain's ..?"

"Most eligible bachelor?" Hermione assumed with a smug expression that was so like her.

"I was gonna say oldest male virgin." he chaffed.

"Ewe!" Hermione's face scrunched up in disgust, before she ventured hopefully that... "If you're still a virgin after getting the 'Order of Merlin' than your seriously doing something wrong, kid."

Wraith rolled his eyes at that. "Oh, and I should trade my virtue over a cheap piece of tin from some starry eyed witch just out of Hogwarts?"

"What ever gets it done, kid."

"Uh, huh... Raven, right?" he guessed.

"What gave me away?"

"You're willingness to trade on anything as an excuse to whore yourself."

Hermione snickered at that. "All men have their vices, kid."

Wraith rolled his eyes again.

After a slight paused to let his eyes drift around the crowded dance floor he spotted the object of his search on the arm of what was presumably the Hungarian ambassador.

"Who's polyjuiced as Susan Bones?" he asked curiously.

"Cho Chang" Raven answered without bothering to use her code name. Hermione's eyes took on a devious sparkle as he chided.

"I think someone else is hoping to satisfy a teenage fantasy?"

"Your warped." Wraith griped, missing a half step, but hastily righting himself.

"Maybe..." his friend acknowledged.. "But talk about your opportunity to kill three birds with one stone?"

At seeing Wraiths baffled look he explained. "You could take care of your little virgin dilemma with the lovely Miss Chang in spirit whilst enjoying the ravishing Susan Bones. If that isn't a school boy fantasy or three all rolled into one than I don't know what is. Har-Har Har!"

The idiot doubled over in side splitting guffaws that both looked and sounded very un-lady like, much to the chagrin of their commanding officer who drifted by with a growl that sobered up Raven and his antics in a trice.

"Way to go, dip shite." Wraith scolded his still wheezing friend.

Their dance was just about to end when Raven straightened up enough to hurriedly venture. "Look kid,.. all joking aside...we both know the score tonight so why not ... well...you know? I'll cover for you and Cho, that is.. I'm sure Cho... wouldn't be necessarily against the idea as she's always had .. _feelings_ for you and all...I'm sure she'd rather remember someone she cares for over..?" Hermione's eyes took a on a compassionate, almost pleading look of hope.

Wraith grimaced uncomfortably at the prospect, even though he knew his friend was being earnest and just trying to help the two in more ways than one.

It wasn't the first time it had been suggested that he and Cho would make a nice couple and he a good father, by the by.

It wasn't that they weren't drawn to each other on some level and not just in a physical sense.

There were far more pros than cons when considering the prospect, but the bottom line was... he felt something for Susan Bones. He always had despite everything that had happened.

It wasn't her fault that he had jumped. She had merely been the final straw that he was rapidly approaching on his own to begin with.

Cho was stunningly beautiful, but so was Susan. He was mesmerized by her strawberry blonde tresses; the way they caught the sun and the faint curls bounced with every step she took.

He liked her pert nose with the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge that faded into her cheeks. He liked the way it crinkled up when she laughed.

Her soft blue eyes, her gentle curves and slim hips rounded out the picture and deliciously so.

Cho had all this and more in the looks department if he was honest with himself. Then there was the fact that she was an Unspeakable. He wouldn't need to hide his work or himself for that matter. She already knew and understood him, perhaps even better than he did himself.

The fact that she was with a child wasn't a detriment, even if it wasn't his blood it could still be his child.

He wanted a family, but did he want one so badly that he was willing to just toss whatever it was he felt for Susan to the wayside without so much as an explanation.

On some level he owed her and on another one could argue that she owed him, though perhaps not in the same way.

He was only alive now because he'd kept her image emblazoned in the deepest recesses of his mind through the long, never ending, weeks of torture.

She had been a lifeline for him. It could have been anyone, if he was honest with himself, but it wasn't. It was her he'd subconsciously chosen to focus on to help him ignore the unceasing pain and humiliation.

He could have sworn he'd heard her gentle voice whispering encouragement in his ear, begging, pleading with him to endure another day, and then the next and the next...

_Merlin,.. he so didn't need this distraction right now._

As if sensing the duress he'd unknowingly placed on his younger friend, Raven apologized. "Sorry kid, my timing sucks, I know...but I ,.. we...just want you to be happy... while you still can.." he gulped worriedly.

"You don't think I'll make it. None of you do, do you? "Wraith assumed dejectedly.

Hermione's eyes hardened at that. "I didn't say that. You'll never hear a single one of us say that, but anything could happen, Harry. I've seen great warriors win battles only to end up getting run over by a muggle motor bike the next day. I put ten galleons on you to win and no one took the bet against, kid. No one would,.. except maybe you."

Harry startled at that.

"You can do it ,Harry. All of us know you can,.. you just have to believe in yourself. While we're on the subject of believing in yourself. I think you should know that Susan Bones put up a helluva row when she learned the score tonight. She wanted to stay and help. She wanted to stay and fight with you. Beside you." He stressed that last and left him with a supportive smile and a wink of reminder that... "Cho does too and she didn't think she had to worry about what she has to lose, get it?"

He nodded at that and gave his friends retreating hand a squeeze. "Thanks, Mike."

His eyes followed Susan Bones's form as she left her partner to take a break. He knew it was Cho beneath the exterior, but surprising he realized that he wished it were Susan if for no other reason than to at least settle accounts between them.. she deserved that much.

Deciding he had better tie up this last loose end whilst he could he hastily made his way across the room to the one dignitary he knew was really still who they appeared to be.

"Can you spare a moment?" he asked hopefully, though his tone was more of a demand than a question.

"For our youngest "Order" recipient, surely." Amelia Bones agreed and let herself be led to an alcove nearby where a hasty and wandless silencing charm was applied to ensure a modicum of privacy.

"If I don't make it.."

"Nonsense" Amelia cut him off with an airy wave of disbelief.

"If I don't, please tell Susan who I am.. who I really am."

Amelia Bones goggled at him, not daring to hope what he was asking her and the burden it would take from her shoulders.

"Tell her I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for hurting her and for deceiving her and everyone else. I never wanted.. that is.. I couldn't... not with Voldemort...and...well.. please.. just explain it to her. Tell her she can tell whoever she wants..I...I won't c-care..." his voice broke and he wiped a forearm over his eyes as he turned embarrassedly away and fled the area leaving a stunned minister alone to thank fate, Merlin and the powers that be for removing this terrible burden from so many lives.

"Bless you child." she whispered in gratitude as she watched Wraith head back to the bar area to try and pull himself together over a drink.

She didn't know how, but she vowed in that moment that no matter what, she would help others, no .. **make** others understand just what an exceptional young man he is.

And it would be** is**, not was.

Along that line, she hastily conceived upon a plan to afford the wizarding public the same view that she already appreciated.

Amelia Bones made her excuses and left the Ballroom for the adjoining _safe room_ the Unspeakables had charmed with this evening's festivities in mind.

They had placed the adjoining Reception Hall under the Fidelius charm and had sequestered each guest there after having been scanned for the dark mark upon admission.

Those that had been found containing the mark, some nine unfortunate fools, had summarily been questioned under truth serum, tried and banished through the veil. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

They had guessed, and now they knew for certain Voldemort's plans for the evening as well as the dark one even did himself.

The rest of the true quests were escorted and detained in the Reception Hall for their own safety after having _voluntarily_ provided a sample of their hair so that either an Unspeakable or an auror could impersonate them under polyjuice within the Ballroom. Some, Like Susan in particular, had been less than forthcoming in relinquishing their attire to complete the ruse. There had been a lot of gasps of outrage, impotent refusals and the like, but eventually everyone got on board with the plan to rid their lives of Voldemort once and for all.

Voldemort would, after fighting his way through a waning resistance, win his way into the Ballroom proper, thinking himself a wolf among sheep.

He would instead be a lamb for the slaughter.

Amelia Bones entered the hidden Hall and after being scanned numerous times by heavily armed guards, she made her way through the milling throng, ignoring many called out inquiries and demands whilst still offering a kind word, or a simple touch of reassurance in passing as she sought the object of her interest.

She found her irate niece huffing and sputtering angrily amongst her friends, all equally outraged by their treatment thus far. Many wanting to join in the fight.

Ignoring the young witch's glares and sarcastic barbs she immediately detailed what she wanted from her niece, piquing the girl's and many of her friend's sudden interest.

"Well?" Amelia asked, focusing her attention on Susan, though the entire group of Hogwarts graduates, in her year, were contemplating the logistics of the request.

Susan shared a quick glance with Hermione Granger, who nodded her agreement to help as did the others in the group.

"It's going to take several of us to charm an entire wall that this size." Susan indicated the shared wall between the Reception Hall and Ballroom.

"Use as many as you need to see it done, but see it done as quickly as possible as I think things are going to heat up rather quickly." she prompted in warning.

"Has the attack begun, then?" Ron Weasly asked, fingering his wand meaningfully.

"Not as yet, no, but my auror's intuition tells me it won't be long." The minister returned solemnly.

"I must caution you, however,..." she began to warn the group. "what you are about to see is going to be unpleasant in the extreme and by that I mean terrifying and bloody. Make no mistake, each side knows the fate of our world is at risk and neither intends to give quarter. This is for "all the marbles", as they say. She drew quotation marks in the air to emphasize her meaning and while many faces blanched, all looked resolute on the whole.

Susan stood up and with more conviction than she knew she had she began to lead her group through the task..."All right you lot, here's what we need...Hermione.. I need you and Ron to..."

It took near a half hour before the wall was prepared, but the work was finished quickly as while the rest of the many quests were curious, none interfered as Minister Bones was keeping vigilant watch over the proceeding.

Once the spells were complete, Susan Bones sighed a sort of 'here goes nothing' sort of sigh and activated the charm scheme.

The entire wall shimmered as magic danced across its surface until it turned clear and gave the audience a clear picture of the proceedings within the adjoining Ballroom.

Another wave of Susan's wand and after a few static crackles, they could now both see and hear the activity next door whilst remaining safe within their Fidelius hidden room, only next door.

The startled crowd initially gasped in surprise before breaking into appreciative applause.

Once the fervor died, Amelia Bones addressed the gathering.

"Friends and colleagues...Tonight, as you've already guessed is a ruse to draw the terrorist-Voldemort out. Whilst Voldemort is no fool and he undoubtedly knows this, we believe that it is just too tempting an offer for him not to attempt to take over the Ministry by annihilating it's personnel and eliminating supportive friends from other Ministries across the wizarding world, whom are gathered here tonight.

This room, as you know, is not only guarded by men handpicked for the task whose loyalty is beyond question, but the room itself has been hidden by a fidelius charm. In addition to that, the common robes you were issued are also, in fact, port keys. Should worse come to worse, you need only say _activus _and your destination and the port key will take you to your desired location."

There were many sighs of relief at this pronouncement, before Minister Bones continued.

"The wall before you has been charmed as a window into the proceedings of the Ballroom next door. You will be both able to see and hear the coming battle whilst all parties within remain oblivious to your presence. I caution you that the battle itself will be brutal as the Unspeakables and aurors within have been issued orders to eliminate the enemy with extreme prejudice."

Some viewers gasped at this thinking in their naiveté that battles could be won in a civilized and merciful way.

Minister Bones continued, ignoring the gasps and murmurings from this smaller quadrant. "For those of you who have no stomach for what is about to unfold then please; activate your port keys and return to the safety of your own homes."

Only a few 'pops' of displaced air announced the departure of a scant handful of the more squeamish individuals among them.

"For the rest of you, brace your selves as I'm sure you will be in for quite a fair few shocks. The very least of which will be the stark knowledge of what others must go though in the battle for peace and freedom. This is the first and primary reason I have allowed you this up close and personal view of the events that are about to unfold. Secondly, I do this so that one and all can fully appreciate just what the young man, you were brought here tonight to honor, has gone through in all of our behalf's."

Amelia gestured to a particular person within the Ballroom, tracking his activity until the room's attention was focused on him.

"That young man is the Unspeakable who goes by the call sign: Wraith." At this she paused and chuckled knowingly, explaining after what she found so amusing.

"As with most Unspeakables they tend to pick a code name for their operatives that has significance to the individual. None could be more fitting than the very one chosen for this young man, Har,.. ah, as you will undoubtedly soon see."

Amelia Bones left off cryptically, just short of announcing Harry Potter's continued existence to the entire room, as she noted the Unspeakables furiously exchanging hand signals and taking up strategic positions within the Ballroom.

The festivities were about to begin.


End file.
